


The Goddess

by The_idea_master



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, HoO - Freeform, PJO, percy jackson - Freeform, zartemis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 06:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 65,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17761658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_idea_master/pseuds/The_idea_master
Summary: After ‘The Lieutenant’ Artemis gains the chance to restore her past relationship with Zoë. Things will be challenging as they face grief together, but a brighter future looms ahead with the potential to do all they never could. As Zoë finds a way to cope with new information she must trust that her beloved patron will find a way for them to be together once more.





	1. Chapter One

“Artemis, where are you going?” Hermes stammered, watching the goddess race past practically biting at the heels of Athena.  
“Business trip!” Came the distant reply.  
Shaking his head in bewilderment, Hermes continued on through his usual mail route. Meanwhile, Artemis was keen on beating her sister to the place Hades had directed them to meet. He was asking for more palace help and the two were always eager to participate. Artemis was fond of the underworld creatures and Athena couldn’t help but fawn over the architecture or ‘design potential’ as she called it.  
“If you run me over again-“ Hades warned watching both girls hurtling towards him at dangerous speeds.  
“I win!” Athena declared just avoiding her uncle.  
“You had a head start,” Artemis protested. Her eyes smoldered with irritation at defeat, but it was all in good fun.  
“Yes, well, better luck next time?” Hades sighed, trying to get them both back on track.  
“Right,” Athena nodded, brushing out her clothes and taking on a business tone, “of course. So, what area will we be touring today?”  
“Correction,” Hades held up his index finger, “it will merely be us.”  
“I’m coming too,” Artemis remarked hottily at being forgotten.  
“I’m aware,” Hades snorted, “but you’ll be preoccupied. The animals will smell you and come running. They’re very fond of you.”  
“So...no palace explorations,” Artemis sighed, but she couldn’t really be disappointed. With a small smile Hades took each of their hands and the trio was transported to the underworld.  
As predicted, the beasts had caught Artemis’ scent in a heart beat and came flocking. She was attacked by rough hell hound tongues, gentle bites, scales heads rubbing against her leg, and more.  
“All of you are so needy,” she laughed, scratching behind the ears of a particularly eager Hell hound. “You’re lucky my uncle lets me spoil you.”  
Shaking her head, Artemis set to work in her duties as care taker. The royal monsters were due for a good bath but that always lead to her being soaked. Thankfully, she had a pool sized bath tub to use.  
With a somewhat ridiculously large brush she scrubbed away at the leathery scales of a dog like lizard. Strange purring noises resonated from the back of its throat. Every now and then when a certain spot was scrubbed one sturdy leg would strike at the water splashing Artemis and the other creatures.  
Though the process was slow and arduous she enjoyed it. Artemis had never been one to pass up good and hard work. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to be doing something productive. The same could be said for the rest of her family. Thalia had seemingly inherited the trait, and Thia, now slowly making her own family, had similar qualities too.  
Speaking of which, Artemis wonders how they were all doing. She hadn’t visited in some time. Making a mental note of it, the goddess retrieved dark colored towels and set to work on the drying process. By the end, each hell hound was fluffed up like Apollo’s hair on a humid day.  
Tossing each a snack of heir preference, Artemis let them go knowing that they’d be dirty in an instant. That was how it all worked. It was the same with her wolves and to an extent her family. Maintaining hygiene for some of the Olympian’s wasn’t high on their lists.  
Giving a sigh of relief, Artemis proceeded to dry herself before cleaning up the mess of dirty towels and empty product bottles. Disposing of them appropriately she set on tracking down her sister and uncle.  
Sometimes their meetings were short and other times they were exceptionally long. Either way Artemis found it amusing to watch them even if she didn’t understand all that was happening. For instance cross beams and vertical support structures didn’t matter to her, but they were clearly an important topic between the two other gods.  
Wandering through the relatively barren halls Artemis caught sight of Hades walking swiftly towards her. “I was meaning to show you this. It’s been nearly a month and I only waited because I felt it was the right thing to do. Take a look.”  
Hades held out a somewhat familiar scroll. Taking it with care, Artemis unrolled he stuff parchment to read the contents. Her eyes traversed the careful scrawl in awe. Three lives already? It was impossibly too short. While she was elated she was torn. Elizabeth had passed away in combat during a military mission. Artemis had been aware that she’d joined the military, but she hadn’t been aware of the death. Then, there was Eliza; an international journalist who’d gone missing and was later pronounced dead not long after graduating college at a ripe young age due to an accelerated program. “So young for all of them.”  
“Mm,” Hades nodded solemnly, “so, what do you think?”  
“Will she remember these past lives?” Artemis asked. “The experiences?”  
“No,” Hades shook his head, “unfortunately for mortals, the demigod form is what all souls return to. The beginning and end of the cycle.”  
“So she’s here? In Elysium?”  
“No,” Hades smiled thinly, “Isle of the Blessed. It seems she never knew how to be anything but an extraordinary person.”  
Silence passed between the two and Hades arched a brow in confusion.  
“I don’t know what to make of this.”  
“Well, Go. Go find her. You’ve waited years for this! I can’t believe you even paused to talk with me,” Hades chuckled.  
“It doesn’t feel right,” Artemis stammered. Sure, she’d been looking forward to this very moment for impossibly long but now that it was here she was uncertain. “I-I don’t know uncle. Isn’t she happy living her life here? If I disrupted it-“  
“Child,” Hades scolded gently, placing his hands upon her shoulders, “the moment she arrived she asked how you were. That girl is head over heels for you and always has been. Do you think she’ll give a damn if you barge into her little home?”  
“What about my father-“  
“I’ll handle him,” Hades assured, “you can stay the night even. Hell, I wouldn’t have any qualms. I know how it goes. I get impossibly lonely when Persephone is gone.”  
“She is lovely,” Artemis agreed. “Do you know where I can find-“  
Hades waved his hand in the air and a small map appeared, “her house is where the X is. Happy hunting.”  
— — —  
Artemis followed the map exactly. She barely looked up from its surface to avoid or acknowledge other heroes on the Isle of the Blessed. She had one destination in mind as nerve wracking as it was.  
Then, as she rounded the last corner, Artemis finally pried her eyes free of the paper. The moment she did it disappeared in a gentle puff of smoke. Up ahead settled a small home not too different from the surrounding ones. The front yard was small but there was a tiny garden already blooming. The door was painted a gentle blue, and unlike the other homes a small set of antlers rested above the doorway.  
Sucking in a deep breath to calm her nerves, Artemis strode across the path to pause in front of the door. Hand hovering for a brief moment, her knuckles finally tapped against the wood.  
From inside a faint voice called back, “Come in.”  
Closing her eyes, taking the handle in a shaking grip, Artemis pushed the door open and stepped inside. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”  
She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to say such a stupid thing but she felt the need to say something even if it was stupid. Opening her eyes at last, Artemis caught sight of a stunned face peering back at her from across the way.  
“A-arty?” Came the breathy reply.  
“My uncle said you’d be here,” she blurted, feeling as foolish and nervous as she had eons ago when they’d first begun the inklings of a relationship.  
“Yeah,” was the nervous laugh, “yeah it’s home. Well, not home but it’s good.”  
“I missed you,” Artemis sighed, studying Zoë’s appearance. Not a single thing had changed about her. Her skin was still deep and rich, her eyes still warm and dark, her hair still neat and flowing, her build still sturdy and lithe, and her smile still bright and gentle. “But you probably knew that.”  
“I missed you too,” Zoë laughed, closing the awkward distance to embrace the goddess tightly. “Gods, how long has it been? It feels like an eternity but the blink of an eye.”  
“Far too long love,” Artemis whispered, letting her thumb trail across her lover’s cheek. “I nearly forgot how beautiful you are.”  
“Likewise,” Zoë blushed, tilting her head to study Artemis in turn. “You look tired...weak even.”  
“There’s a lot I must tell you for you to understand,” Artemis explained, swallowing tightly.  
“That’s okay,” Zoë promised, “I want to hear everything. Even the worst of it.”  
“You’re very brave,” Artemis pressed her lips into a thin line. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”  
“Well, I might be the slightest bit nuts,” Zoë joked, pinching her thumb and index so they nearly touched.  
— — —  
Artemis didn’t quite know where to start with it all, but Zoë insisted she start at the beginning. So the goddess did. She explained the remainder of the Titan war, told Zoë all about Thalia and the girl’s shenanigans, and how percy finally got together with Annabeth.  
Zoë was fairly amused by this information because she’d known for a while-well, since Thalia had told her-that Percy was deeply in love with Annabeth.  
Artemis was hesitant to tell Zoë anything about her grief and how she’d handled it quite poorly. The last thing she wanted was to shatter the reunion. Still, Zoë insisted on knowing, and Artemis found it was easier to show her rather than explain it all with words.  
Taking the Hesperide’s hand Artemis closed her eyes and focused on all of the details she’d tried hard to forget. The way she’d tried to save little traces of Zoë in her quarters from the faint scent on her bed to the little place her lover would sit and read or craft arrows, that night Aphrodite had sent her into a tail spin of guilt, loss, and grief, all for some petty game of seduction, how Gaea had woken, that she and Apollo were sent away, that she’d had to watch from a distance in a small puddle helpless to provide assistance to the people she cared about most, how she was later vanished to CHB while Apollo turned mortal, the inevitable romance hat had budded between Thalia and Reyna, how Thalia left, that Artemis had cursed the title of lieutenant because no one ever held it without leaving, the time Athena stayed with her for comfort, how Artemis refused to even consider reliving whatever sexual tension she held because it wasn’t proper-because Zoë was the only one who had the right to touch her in such ways, how time passed and the demigods were married and had kids, how she’d nearly murdered Zeus for his stunt with Thia, how Artemis loved Thia so deeply it hurt, and then the reality that Thia too was beginning to have a family of her own.  
“I didn’t think-I didn’t think I missed that much,” Zoë’s voice was soft, hardly above a whisper, and her eyes glittered like fractured glass. “Are they...happy?”  
“Very,” Artemis nodded, running her thumbs over her lover’s knuckles. “And I think they’d have moved to meet you. I told them stories you know.”  
“I don’t doubt you did,” Zoë laughed faintly.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“For what?” The Hesperide’s brow furrowed in confusion.  
“I never should have gone hunting alone. You’d have been there for all of it. You’d have met them and seen them and loved them,” Artemis’ throat grew tight and she nearly choked on the last words, “Thia would’ve loved you. She-she asked so many questions about you and I couldn’t bring myself to answer them.”  
“Arty-“  
“And I know that I shouldn’t have grieved how I did and I should have taken care of myself, but I didn’t know what to do without you,” the tears Artemis had been holding in for so long finally came tumbling out. “I’ve never known life without you Zoë. I met you when I was so young and everything I’ve ever done you’ve been by me. It felt like I’d lost Apollo. Like it was half of who I am.”  
“It’s okay,” Zoë assured, giving the goddess’ hands a gentle squeeze, “you’re okay now.”  
“I’m not,” Artemis sobbed, “I’m not. I’ve managed but I’m not okay. I just-I want to go back. I want to change it all even though I know I can’t.”  
“I’m here now. I can’t make the pain of waiting go away but-“  
“Zoë you weren’t the only one who died,” Artemis sniffled, holding the other girl’s gaze.  
“That’s the casualty of war I know some of the demigods who-“  
“Not them,” Artemis shook her head. “Do you remember the quest?”  
“Of course, how could I not?”  
“Thalia told me all about it. How high strung you were, how irritable, the way you were so gentle with Bianca, and the way your emotions seemed to get all jumbled,” Artemis explained, “and I know that’s not like you. You’re composed in those situations but I wasn’t there to know why. I only knew that even for a while before I left your were a little different. I figured you were just anxious with all that was happening but I know now that wasn’t the case.”  
“I don’t understand,” Zoë frowned.  
“You remember Hecate? What she was trying to do to us?”  
“Yes, but it didn’t work.”  
“It did,” Artemis smiled faintly, “we just didn’t know because we gave up on it. You were pregnant, Zoë. It’s just...”  
The look of bewilderment upon Zoë’s face slowly shifted into realization before settling on something so heartbreaking Artemis felt her heart shatter. “They said it wasn’t possible. How-I should’ve known. I should’ve been able to...oh gods. How did I not know?”  
“Shh,” Artemis enveloped her lieutenant in a tight embrace pressing kisses to the top of her head in desperate attempts to soothe the broken hearted girl she held. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”  
“I should’ve listened to you and stayed put,” Zoë’s words were heard to decipher as they came out strangled.  
“You couldn’t help the prophecy, love.”  
They stayed bundled up in each other’s arms for a long time. Neither one said anything because there was nothing to say. It was a time of elation and a time of sorrow.  
It wasn’t until Artemis felt he draw of the moon in the mortal world that she New night had finally fallen. “It’s night.”  
Zoë sat up alert with a look of fear in her eyes, “Stay.”  
“I can’t,” Artemis sighed, “my uncle offered the invitation but my father...”  
“Please,” Zoë pleaded, “what if you don’t come back?”  
“I’ll fight to have you back,” Artemis promised, “and I don’t care what laws I have to break to take you home with me. I just need s little bit of time. Can you give me that?”  
“Yes,” came the breathy reply.  
“Thank you,” Artemis smiled warmly, letting Zoë pull her into a kiss she kept intentionally chaste. “No more...I won’t be able to control myself. I’d have you in an instant my dear, and then I’d really be in trouble.”  
“Okay,” Zoë nodded, letting her patron go at last.  
“I will be back,” Artemis promised once more. “Just have faith. I won’t lose you again. Not on my life.”


	2. Chapter Two

“Athena, I need you to help me come up with the best design for this new hot tub I want-“ Apollo targeted the goddess of wisdom the moment she crossed the threshold into the chamber of the Gods.   
“Apollo, how many hot tubs do you need?” Athena threw her hands in the air completely exasperated.   
“I broke my last one,” Apollo remarked.   
“How?”  
“Do not ask!” Artemis interjected already knowing where the interaction was going. “I made that mistake once before.”   
“I’ll think on it,” Athena waved Apollo off followed by a small shiver of disgust. Waiting until Apollo was compelled gone, the goddess finally asked the question she’d been dying to “ What was it Hades sent you off for? I pray it wasn’t to catch one of his pets.”   
“No,” Artemis laughed faintly, “not one of his pets. They were well behaved.”  
“Last time one got out there were...casualties,” the goddess’ grey eyes took on a dark tone. “But if it wasn’t that then-“  
“You must keep this between us understand?” Artemis asked, glancing about and lowering her voice, “and I tell you because I trust you.”   
“Of course,” Athena nodded.   
“I found Zoë in the Isle of the Blessed. Uncle told me where to go,” Artemis studied her sister’s face with care. The goddess of wisdom was restraining a faint smile.   
“That’s great. Finally got to patch up what wasn’t said?”   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, “but...I want to bring her here.”  
“Artemis I don’t know if-“  
“I’m aware,” Artemis interrupted, “but I promised I would try. Uncle doesn’t have any qualms about it and I’m certain the only issue is-“  
“Father,” Athena frowned, “and we both know very well it’s like talking to a boulder with him. He won’t budge. I don’t know how you’d even try to convince him when he despised her from the beginning.”   
“I was hoping you might have had an idea,” Artemis worried, her brow furrowing slightly.   
“I don’t Arty,” Athena sighed, her eyes going dull with sympathy, “and I wish I did. If I can think of anything at all to help I’ll let you know, but this might be a lost cause.”   
“It’s not lost until I try,” Artemis determined, “and I won’t give in easily.”   
“Well, I’m here if you need me should things go south,” Athena promised, resting a gentle hand upon her sister’s shoulder. “Good luck.”   
Artemis watched her sibling go before letting loose a sigh. She knew her discussion with Zeus wasn’t going to be easy. He’d likely not give in, but Artemis wouldn’t be able to bear it if she simply cowered at the idea of confronting him. So, steeling her nerves she made her way to his chambers.   
He was lounging in a well padded chair while observing a floating layout of the globe. Artemis had seen it before. He could zoom in and out and select the weather wherever he pleased.   
There was a prolonged silence before Zeus noticed her arrival, “Yes?”  
His voice was stiff like it hadn’t been used in some time. Artemis supposed he hadn’t emerged from his chambers all day. This would bro interesting. He usually sulked in his room when he was particularly irritable. Artemis decided to proceed with caution.  
“I wanted to discuss something rather important,” Artemis began hesitantly, “and I want you to remain as open minded as possible.”  
Zeus’ eyes narrowed and the floating image of the planet disappeared with a wave of the hand, “Go on.”  
“I went with Uncle to the underworld like I usually do, but he allowed me to visit someone on the Isle of the Blessed and I-well, Father, it was Zoë. I talked to Uncle and he’s perfectly fine to fulfill my wish. You see...I want her to come here. To live here-“  
“Absolutely not,” Zeus barked out through laughter, “did you really think I’d even consider that idea? I give you respect for attempting but you know very well how I stand in regard to Titan offspring like her..”   
“Father,” Artemis frowned, feeling embarrassment warm her cheeks and ears, “Please let me explain.”  
“No explanation is needed,” Zeus insisted. “I gave you the little band of hunters you have and what has happened has happened. You got to abandon your duties here to run around with that girl for centuries. Her time came. Accept it and move on. Humans don’t grieve as long as you have. Either understand that there is a catch to everything-including your escapades-and immortality,” Zeus pressed his lips into a thin line. “There was life and it was lost. We live and we die. You know that better than anyone as a hunter. So do humans.”  
“Father, I am not human,” Artemis insisted, “I never was. So why do you expect me to act like one? No human has had someone by their side for centuries. I don’t know life without her.”  
“You do. You were born without her, and you live now without her,” Zeus clasped his hands together in his lap.   
“Why do you want me to suffer?”   
The question seemed to stun the king of the Gods. “What have I done for you to hate me?”   
“You’re over staying your welcome-“  
“Don’t shut me out!” Artemis pleaded, “Please. Father, I-I don’t know...”  
“What? What do you not know?” He demanded.   
“I’ve never known you as my father,” Artemis whispered, “you’ve never been there. From the moment I came here it was Athena who took care of me, Zoë, Uncle Hades, and it was never you. Why? Did I do something to you? Did I hurt you? Tell me so I can remedy it. Please.”  
Zeus’ eyes grew cloudy as a hand ran through his thick beard. Artemis expected him to grow angry. To smite her then and there, but his expression softened slowly. “Memories are the worst form of torture.”   
“I know,” Artemis nodded, “I live with them every day.”   
Another long pause.  
“You look so much like your mother,” Zeus mumbled. So that was it. Artemis felt foolish for not realizing it before, “and every time I see you I remember how cruelly we all treated her. When your eyes spark it’s like she’s smiting me herself. Same with Apollo. Same with Jason, and worst of all with Thalia. She’s so much like her mother-“  
“She hates it when people say that,” Artemis noted, “she used to take it out on herself.”  
“I wasn’t aware,” Zeus sighed.   
“You never are.”   
The remake was dangerous and for the briefest moment lightning flashed in Zeus’ eyes before it faded. “I suppose I deserve that.”   
“You’ve missed a lot,” Artemis’ voice grew shaky, “and I don’t think you even realize how much you truly have.”  
“No. I don’t,” Zeus acknowledged the fact with a melancholy smile, “and I suppose that is my curse. To remain so high up that I see nothing but clouds. Just like you see that lover of yours in every aspect of the wild.”   
“She never did anything for you to hate her,” Artemis pressed her lips into a thin line, “so why do you?”   
“She’s strong, opinionated, defiant, and too much like her father. Too clever for her own good and too much of a wild card,” Zeus’ face set into and expression hard as stone.   
“She isn’t him you know. Just like I am not you.”   
“Perhaps, but we can’t ignore our blood can we?” Zeus arched a brow. When Artemis didn’t reply he let out a long winded sigh. “You do understand that if I allow this to happen I open myself up to a lot of trouble. I have tried to keep this request of yours at bay for some time. I already told Prometheus he couldn’t make you a child for I knew you’d bring it here. And yet I selfishly had Thia born.”  
Zeus bowed his head in the first sign of shame Artemis had ever seen from him. Still, her eyes looked like a wounded animal’s. “You were responsible for that? Did you know how much that meant to her?”  
“Yes,” he admitted, “and it seems Hecate ignored my commands. I am...sorry about that. Truly I am. The unborn never deserve to die.”  
Silence settled between the two like a stone wall. Artemis was torn. She wanted to hate him. He’d been responsible for the biggest heartbreaks in her life and yet he’d finally opened up to her after all this time. “You understand that I can’t tell whether to love you or not.”   
“Yes,” Zeus nodded, running a tired hand down his face. “It seems to be the case for many people in my life.”  
“I want to love you,” Artemis croaked, “but you’ve hurt me. Others want to love you too. Your bother loves you. Your children want to love you and yet you fight it.”  
“There is too much of my father in me child,” Zeus smiled sadly, “and I fear there are times when I hear his voice telling me to be afraid of the family I love. The family who hates me.”  
“Then focus on the voice of your mother.”  
“I’ve forgotten what she sounds like.” Those two stormy eyes took on a distant look as if Zeus were in a million different memories at once. “I suppose I should visit her. It’s been terribly long...”  
“Father,” Artemis called his attention back to the topic at hand, “can I bring her here?”  
“Permanently?” Zeus arched a brow.   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded.   
“I don’t know,” he sighed, shaking his head and seeming impossibly older than before, “but I’ll permit it for three days. By then I should have a decision made.”  
Artemis could barely contain her smile. She couldn’t believe it. There was no way he’d agreed-and yet he had. With a small cry of joy she tackled Zeus in a hug. It was the first time she’d hugged him in centuries. The king was caught off guard but after a moment of hesitation he relaxed. “Thank you.”   
“Go,” Zeus smiled faintly, “don’t waste a second. It may only be three days.”   
Artemis retreated from the hug ticking away that small grin detail. She supposed that three days was more than she’d expected to begin with, and if they was all she got it would be worth it. “Thank you again, dad.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more mature content (I.E. smut) so read at your own discretion.

Artemis knew many secrets about Olympus,and that secret knowledge encompasses long forgotten passages. As a result, her early explorations as a child made it quite easy to smuggle Zoë in relatively unnoticed. Of course, by now most knew what conversation had taken place in Zeus’ chambers, but Artemis was keen on avoiding a spectacle. The last thing she wanted was to be bombarded by questions and remarks. She’d dealt with that none sense most of her life as it was.   
“Welcome home,” Artemis smiled faintly, escorting the amused Hesperide into her quarters.   
“Nothing’s changed,” Zoë remarked. Everything was as she remembered it. The same series of pelts decorated a small section of the wall and made up a majority of Artemis’ bed, the spot she’d used to make arrows in was still littered with failed attempts, some books sat in a dusty pile off to the side, on the same small table as the books rested a series of hunting trophies, across the way resided a tiny desk equipped with a lamp, and as she inspected her surrounding other minute details tugged at Zoë’s memory.   
“I couldn’t bring myself to undo anything,” Artemis admitted, “and if I left it be sometimes it felt like you hadn’t gone.”  
“I’d only been here a handful of times. I can’t believe I left this place such a mess,” Zoë frowned, eyeing the wonky arrow shafts scattered on the floor.   
“It’s alright,” Artemis laughed, taking Zoë’s hand in her own. “I don’t mind messes. It wasn’t like we were particularly tidy while on the move. Not to mention, Thalia isn’t the most orderly at times.”   
“Well, I would have told you that myself,” Zoë teased, edging her elbow into Artemis’ ribs. The goddess retreated slightly holding her side with a smile.   
“Must you always do that?”   
“It’s one of the few advantages I have over you,” Zoë smiled smugly, straightening up and seeming rather proud of the fact.   
“I forgot how smug you are,” the goddess feigned irritation, crossing her arms. Rolling her eyes, Zoë pressed a brief kiss to Artemis’ lips.   
“You’re smug too,” the Hesperide reminded, “I can name numerous times where you’ve given me the same prideful stare.”   
“Yes, well...” Artemis was too overwhelmed by Zoë’s proximity to come up with a remark in reply. She was aware of the girl’s scent; pine needles, fresh air, faint fire smoke, and damp earth. There was no way to keep her thoughts from becoming muddled.   
“You’re adorable when confused,” Zoë snorted, tilting her head to study her patron with gentle eyes. “What is it?”   
“N-nothing,” Artemis stammered, shaking her head and trying to focus on the present.   
“Tell me,” Zoë frowned trying to meet Artemis’ eyes, but the goddess was keen on looking elsewhere. Sighing, Zoë kissed her once more, and the goddess responded with a violent shiver. “I...I think I understand. Artemis, you could have said something. I would be-“  
“I may hurt you,” Artemis interjected, “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to control myself and if I forget my own strength-“  
“I can take it,” Zoë promised. The goddess remained quiet for a long time merely searching her lover’s eyes for any hint of doubt to those words. She found none, and after the briefest of hesitations she captured her lieutenant’s lips in an earnest kiss.   
Two strong and pale arms wrapped about a slender waist pulling Zoë firmly against the goddess’ body. Copper colored hands settled on two warm cheeks decorated with a faint blush keeping their lips together until it was absolutely necessary for Zoë to breath.   
Pulling apart the two paused, studied one another as if they were surprised by themselves, before coming together once more. Artemis’ hand nestled in dark hair as the other remained about the waist. She kissed Zoë rough enough to feel a sting in her lips, but the feeling was hardly noticeable. The Goddess was more aware of the two hands glued to her hips slowly sliding up her sides. Tearing her lips away from Zoë’s she spun the Hesperide about and with a sweep of the hand brushed aside tangled hair to ravage the soft flesh of her neck.   
For all of Zoë’s previous composure she found that it had vanished in an instant and she was leaning heavily back against her lover. Arms wrapped tightly about the lieutenant so she remained flushed against the girl behind her. Zoë was left to tilt her head and reach back to settle a hand in auburn hair.   
But all too soon those soft lips left dark skin feeling cold, and the warm embrace disappeared. Meanwhile, long graceful fingers worked delicately at the fastenings of Zoë’s chiton. When finished, the garment fell easily to the floor with a faint flutter of fabric.   
Glancing over her shoulder, Zoë hesitantly turned back around very aware of the silver eyes watching her and the faint, gentle, smile upon her patron’s face.   
Artemis watched as Zoë stooped down presumably to collect her clothes, but instead the Hesperide took the hem of Artemis’ own chiton lifting it slightly. Lips pressed lightly just above the knee before the hem was lifted slightly higher and followed by another kiss. Rooted to the spot, Artemis was very aware of her heart racing and her breathe hitching as a path was trailed up her leg from just above the knee to the thigh and the hip. Then the waist, stomach, and chest, until her tunic was pulled all the way up just above the mouth. Unable to see, Artemis felt a sense of vulnerability she hadn’t in some time, but when those two familiar lips met her own again a faint laugh filled the air. At last, Zoë pulled the garment up and over Artemis the rest of the way casting it aside with a sly grin.   
Taking her lover’s face in her hands, Artemis kissed Zoë fiercely, drawing her close once more. Feeling the warmth of the Hesperide’s skin against her own, Artemis felt a new wave of desire course through her. Collecting Zoë in her arms she lifted the girl with ease feeling sturdy legs hook about her waist.   
Amidst a heated kiss Artemis settled Zoë upon the small table knocking aside its contents without a care in the world. Through the thud of objects on the floor and the rustling of book pages a small growl escaped the goddess. She was hunting now.  
Trailing a line of kisses down Zoë’s jawline, the goddess nipped hungrily at the taught flesh upon her lover’s collarbone. Resting a warm hand upon Zoë’s shoulder, Artemis forced the girl back onto her elbows.   
From there, the goddess attacked the soft flesh of Zoë’s chest with zeal, drawing sharp hisses of breathe and stifled sounds from the Hesperide. But all too soon Artemis moved on taking up a more gentle persona. Her lips brushed faintly across a taught stomach as soft breaths of warm air darted across coppery skin.   
This ghost of a kiss drew goose bumps across Zoë’s arms and the warmth of the goddess’ hands upon her thighs was the only combatant to the present chill of anticipation, but those lips were dangerous. They graced the ridges of the hips tauntingly, kissed each thigh with gentle precision, and it was far too long before they settled again. Once they did, however, Zoë was at complete mercy for whatever Artemis decided to do with her.   
It soon became clear that remaining perched on her elbows wouldn’t last long as each ministration of the goddess’ mouth brought an unexpected response. Breathing deeply Zoë collapsed back placing her hand over her mouth. She was out of practice at keeping quite.   
Artemis, however, took note of this. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she stood drawing Zoë’s hand away to kiss her roughly, “None of that now love.”  
Zoë was about to protest but Artemis was already ahead of her. Faint music began to play in the background with a wave of the goddess’ hand. “How-“  
“Old gift from my brother. Record player on the dresser,” Artemis mused, “I’ve rarely used it. I think this is a good occasion for it.”   
Zoë couldn’t help but grin. Artemis was sly and sometimes she forgot about it, but then there were times like this that reminded her just how mischievous the moon goddess could be. “You’re sly.”   
“Very,” Artemis smirked, planting a disappointingly chaste kiss to Zoë’s lips before taking up her task once more.   
Thankfully for Zoë’s sake the music did what it was intended to and she was spared from eternal embarrassment at the noises clawing their way out of her throat. Each lash of the tongue only worsened her current predicament both frustrating and pleasurable. She knew it wasn’t long before the inevitable moment came but there was nothing for her to brace herself with. She couldn’t hold Artemis like she had in the past, or grasp the edge of a leathered chest, or brace against a bedpost, or tree, or wall. She felt unbearably helpless.   
But as quick as the thoughts came they vanished in a moment. Artemis sensed the precise moment Zoë’s body had decided it’d had enough. The Goddess was quick to hook an arm about her lover’s waist as the wave of euphoria brought Zoë into a half upright position. Keeping the Hesperide close Artemis could feel her lieutenant leaning heavily back against her arm. If she hadn’t been a god it’d have been painful, but Artemis knew that in moments like this you needed something to ground you. Some form of an object to brace against.   
After a surprisingly long moment Zoë relaxed with a sigh. Sitting upright on her own she rested a hand on either side of Artemis’ face and drew her up into a passionate kiss. “You’ve gotten better.”   
Artemis simply laughed running a hand through Zoë’s tangled hair, “I wasn’t too rough was I?”   
“Never,” Zoë shook her head, taking Artemis’ hand in her own. “But...”  
“But?” Artemis arched a brow.   
“It is my turn...isn’t it?” Zoë asked tilting her head to the side.   
“Only if you wa-“  
“Shh.” Zoë silenced Artemis with another kiss. “I won’t have you lying to me.”  
Artemis’ expression softened, “Okay.”  
“You won’t hurt me,” Zoë insisted, “you didn’t just then. Relax, love. Please?”  
When Zoë was certain Artemis believed her she pressed a light kiss to the goddess’ forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, neck, and collarbone. When she glanced back up to study her patron’s face she found that Artemis’ eyes had closed, her chest barely rose and fell, and she seemed almost calm. Like she was made of ivory itself.   
With care Zoë let her fingers ghost lightly over the goddess’ sides drawing out the faintest of shivers. Slipping a hand up to settle behind Artemis’ neck the other rested upon her cheek. Zoë’s thumb made gentle arched across warm skin. “Will you look at me?”   
A flutter of lashes revealed ever stunning silver eyes. They were soft like glittering pools of metal, but there was something different in them. They were cloudy, but Zoë knew how to identify lust when she saw it.   
Smiling faintly, the lieutenant captured her patron’s lips in a gentle kiss pulling the pale girl into a warm embrace. The gentility didn’t last. With some care Zoë traversed the two of them through the mess they’d made. Artemis tripped on a stray book sending her stumbling roughly back into the wall. The wind was knocked from her lungs but she didn’t care as Zoë hooked her hands into auburn hair.   
The cool surface pressing into the goddess’ back contrasted greatly with the warm body pressed against hers. It created an oddly thrilling sensation.   
However, Artemis soon recalled that Zoë was much less forgiving than she was. There was little hesitation. The Hesperide was always so steady and sure in her movements. A lightly calloused palm set to work on kneading the soft flesh of Artemis’ chest. Zoë felt her patron arch into the touch and rather than apply the pressure she sought, she eased the touch into a light caress.   
Artemis gave a small utterance of disapproval, but the displeasure faded as quickly it’d come. When Artemis had relaxed once more Zoë did as the goddess desired. “Don’t work for it love. Like I said, relax. It’ll be okay.”   
Artemis tried to reply but she was amazed at how dry her throat had become. Zoë just rolled her eyes and mimicked what Artemis had done earlier: she spun the goddess about.   
Hands grasping the edges of the nightstand Artemis was very aware of the body now flush against her back. Closing her eyes she felt the faint brush of fingertips travel down from her sternum. They moved impossibly slow and when she moved to grasp the hand to speed up the process-it retreated.   
“Zoë-“ Artemis’ voice wavered, “I’ve waited long enough for this I have no more patience I-“  
“If you rush you will regret it,” Zoë whispered in the goddess’ ear, gently tucking a strand of loose hair safely away. “You were always one to enjoy the more sensual aspects.”   
“Screw sensual,” Artemis replied but she sounded more like a whining child.  
Laughing softly, Zoë kissed just behind her lover’s ear and capturing it in between her teeth gave a sharp tug. If Artemis wanted to take the lead she could. Zoë had given her the offer, but the result was more surprising than anything.   
The sound of splintering wood was followed by a shift in balance. Thankfully, Zoë’s hold on the goddess kept her from falling. Artemis’ cheeks flared bright red as she observed the broken structure. She couldn’t believe such a small teasing gesture had produced such a reaction. “I-sorry.”  
“It’s okay,” Zoë promised, “I’ve got you. Besides, it’s not my room.”   
Artemis nodded, not sure what to say but she didn’t have to say anything. Zoë scooped her up with ease and took her to the mountain of furs that covered the goddess’ bed.   
What neither seemed to notice though, as Zoë made slow work of her lover, was the way the music changed. It seemed to match the moon goddess’ emotions to a T. The music hitched with a sharp cry resonating from the immortal huntress before beginning slowly again.   
“Are you okay?” Zoë asked, her brow creasing in worry.   
“It burns,” Artemis whimpered. It felt like the first time all over again. Of course, she knew the pain would go away, but the shock of it was still surprising.   
“Talk to me,” Zoë insisted, “I don’t want to hurt you.”   
“I’m okay, I’ll be okay,” Artemis promised. “It’s just been...a while.”   
“I know,” Zoë laughed, resting her forehead against Artemis’. The two shared a loving look for the briefest moment until Artemis made the first move. Her being keen on continuing their rendezvous.   
Short nails dug into Zoë’s back leaving tiny crescents in their wake as hips rolled in search of more friction. Once so calm, the goddess slowly unraveled turning more frantic by the second as if she were afraid Zoë would suddenly disappear.   
Legs shuffled together, Artemis attempted to pull Zoë closer but the Hesperide kept a firm hand on the goddess’ waist preventing her from arching into her touch or shifting their placement. To turn the tides further in her favor Zoë’s two fingers were joined by a third.   
Artemis’ brow furrowed and her mouth opened in a silent cry. Closing her eyes tightly she reached back grasping the headboard but the poor piece of lumber gave out with a pitiful snap. A string of curses that made sailors look childish tumbled from trembling lips. With each second the goddess’ breath became shorter, faster, and shakier. But beneath ivory skin a faint glow seemed emanate from her veins as of mercury had replaced golden blood.   
“Zoë,” Came the strained whisper, “close your eyes. Don’t look.”  
“Art-“  
“Promise me,” Artemis worried tilting Zoë’s chin so their eyes met. Saying nothing, Zoë closed her eyes and nestled her face in the crook over her lover’s neck. Seconds later she felt the tell tale signs of what was to come. The faint fluttering about her fingers, the tightness in Artemis’ abdomen, the tense posture of the shoulders, and the sound of rushed gasps in her ear.   
The goddess’ cry was muffled as she bit lightly into Zoë’s shoulder. Keeping true to her promise Zoë kept her eyes shut and she soon knew why. There was a feeling of warmth bordering on stinging heat, a flashing light, the smell of burning fire, and the sense that she was somehow holding raw essence in place. Slowly though, after a handful of minutes the heat cooled and the light dimmed against her eyelids.   
All at once Artemis relaxed but the moment Zoë attempted to remove her hand the goddess fell apart again albeit less violently. Only this time it was almost pitiful. Artemis’ brow was beaded with sweat, tears glittered in her eyes, and her body quivered like it could barely keep itself together.   
When the second release finally faded, Zoë succeeded in pulling free but she could tell Artemis disliked the empty feeling in its place. “You’re shaking, love.”  
“I know,” Artemis breathed, closing her eyes and attempting to collect herself. She brought a hand to her forehead but she was barely capable of keeping her arm raised. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Zoë worried, moving to lay by the goddess’ side.   
“I am now,” Artemis attempted to smile but it came as a grimace. She took Zoë’s hand in her own and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. Then, with a sigh, she settled Zoë’s palm just over her racing-and calming-heart. The Hesperide looked softly at the girl beside her for some time. She didn’t know how long it was until Artemis had regained her composure but she didn’t care. Zoë was content to study her huntress forever if she could.   
However, the mods Zoë watched her the more she saw Artemis’ face slowly etch itself into a thoughtful expression. “What are you thinking of?”   
“You,” Artemis admitted shamelessly, eyes cast on the ceiling above where the stars were permanently settled. Then, with auburn hair framing her face, the goddess rolled over to face her lieutenant. She said nothing as she settled a hand upon Zoë’s cheek.   
The two gazed at one another with nothing but love until Artemis broke the silence with a question uttered so softly, so brokenly, and so fearfully that it broke Zoë’s heart, “Will you marry me?”   
The Hesperide blinked slowly as her heart seemed to swell and shatter all at once. “Oh, Arty.”   
“Please,” Artemis pleaded, “even if I have three days with you-we could make it a lifetime. I want you to be mine even in the underworld. To be mine for all of eternity without a doubt that I love you.”   
“Artemis I’m already yours,” Zoë insisted, her throat growing tight, “but you and I both know I can’t wed you. The laws say Zeus must oversee Olympian marriages. We’re lucky he’s letting us have this.”   
“Would you want to?” Artemis asked.   
“Marry you?”   
“Yes.”   
“I would have done it the moment you first kissed me,” Zoë whispered.   
Artemis nodded seeming content with the answer but Zoë knew a part of the goddess’ heart was still broken by the inevitable separation between them. It was as if they could never escape it. The Hesperide watched as Artemis closed her eyes drifting off into one of the first peaceful sleeps she’d had in decades. Then, moving so she could wrap herself about the goddess, Zoë pressed a light kiss to the back of Artemis’ shoulder. “I love you.”   
— — —  
When Artemis woke the next morning she was alarmed by the state of her quarters. The table was cleaned with its contents strewn upon the floor in a sloppy maze. The night stand was made of large splinters and fractured wood. Her bed was missing it’s headboard which lay in three segments upon the floor. Then, as quickly as the confusion came, she recollected the previous night’s events.   
Flushing a bright crimson she settled back upon the pillows knowing that explaining such repairs would be difficult. What’s more, the record player was still sending out a pleasant tune.   
With a sigh, the goddess closed her eyes reveling in the moment. She was at home in bed with her lover amidst an undisturbed morning accompanied by a gentle tune. Things couldn’t have been more perfect unless a gentle breeze was blowing through an open window ruffling curtains.   
Opening her eyes once more Artemis studies Zoë intently. Her lips were parted ever so slightly but Artemis notes that they were plumper than normal. She decided it was most likely due to mild irritation from the night before. Looking elsewhere, the goddess noticed the faint impression of teeth on Zoë’s shoulder, small crescents upon her back in scattered patterns, and numerous bruises upon the chest and neck.   
“Don’t be worried,” Artemis jumped slightly at Zoë’s sleep filled voice. She hadn’t noticed the Hesperide had woken, “I marked you too.”   
“I didn’t mean to stare,” Artemis apologized.   
“You can stare all you’d like,” Zoë assured, smiling dreamily. Artemis nodded and after doing a quick inventory on her own body realized that Zoë was right. She had her fair share of scratches and bruises too.   
“Would you like to wash up?” Artemis asked, feeling the faint remnants of sweat upon her skin.  
“Yes.”   
“Wait,” pressing a kiss to Zoë’s forehead, Artemis moved sluggishly out of bed and walked stiffly to the adjoining wash room. Some time later she returned and woke Zoë who’d fallen asleep once more. “Water’s warm, love.”   
Helping coax the Hesperide from beneath the comfortable pelts, Artemis escorted her to the bathroom. Zoë clambered into the spacious tub first with a sigh of relief as the warm water relaxed sore muscles and released tender skin of its sting.   
Stepping carefully in after, Artemis settled between her lieutenant’s legs leaning back against her chest. She fiddled briefly with Zoë’s lithe fingers making odd shapes with them before letting go. Now with the freedom to do as they pleased, Zoë’s hands roamed across the goddess’ body retracing familiar details. All the while Artemis relaxed, closing her eyes and settling her head upon her lover’s shoulder.   
“Arty?”   
“Hm?”  
“Will I ever get to see this Thia of yours?” Zoë questioned.   
“Some day, love,” Artemis promised. “Some day.”  
“And Thalia?”   
“Some day.”   
“And her lover?”   
“Some day?”   
“Some day,” Zoë sighed, closing her eyes and settling her face in auburn hair. Artemis’ familiar scent comforted her heavy heart. “I live by some days and one days and maybes.”  
“Life has a way of making sure nothing is certain,” Artemis replied, pausing one of Zoë’s hands and taking it in her own, “but that uncertainty brought me you again. Perhaps, those maybes might be worth all of those some days and one days.”   
“Maybe,” Zoë chuckled. “Maybe, indeed.”


	4. Chapter Four

“They’re brighter here,” Zoë smiled, eyes alight with wonder as she gazed at the dark sky.   
“We’re away from the earth below, nearly part of the sky,” Artemis sighed, relaxing into the flowers and soil,” and I find the sky is brightest between worlds.”   
“Is that...” Zoë frowned, shifting to perch onto her elbow.  
“Your constellation,” Artemis nodded, studying Zoë’s features beneath the moonlight. They looked impossibly delicate, fragile even, but somehow strong.   
“It’s beautiful.”   
“It was the most tragic creation I’ve ever made,” admitted the goddess, “and there’s always a bit of beauty in tragedy.”   
“You’re beginning to sound like Apollo,” Zoë teased, laying down in the garden once more. Her dark eyes reflected the starry sky above, as if they contained their own universe. Artemis wanted nothing more than to capture the moment for all of eternity. Her lieutenant truly was unparalleled.   
“Is that so bad?”  
“No,” Zoë laughed, “because-just between us-you’re a far better poet.”   
“Is that so?” The goddess asked, arching a brow though her lips formed a small smirk.   
“Mhm,” The Hesperide grinned, moving so she lay atop the moon goddess.   
“Well, let me think of one,” Artemis smiled faintly, “one fit for you.”   
“Alright,” Zoë mused, waiting patiently and resting her head upon Artemis’ chest. The slow rise and fall nearly lulled her to sleep along with the gentle hand running through dark hair.   
“‘Tis in this space I find most strange a love that binds me to the night. For stars I love In bright desire the figure of my fiercest fighter. Echoes pass amongst the runes of galaxies and deep blue moons, words of love I whisper to, my dearest one ‘I swear to you the moon will come to play a tune of little notes that lull you off to gentle sleep with promises of silver dreams.” Artemis spoke slowly as if she truly did have all the time in the world to say those words.   
“That was beautiful,” Zoë whispered, feeling a surge of affection- nearly crippling- for the wonderful person beneath her.   
“It was only words,” Artemis closed her eyes, ashamed she couldn’t find something far better to recite than a poem made up on the fly. Perhaps she should have minded her brother’s children more and learned of their creations. Zoë had loved Shakespeare, albeit to laugh at the ridiculous romances.  
“Shh,” Zoë frowned, perching on her elbows to gaze at the goddess. “Words of love mean everything to me. Especially since our time is limited. What else will I have to cherish but your voice?”   
A faint smile graced Artemis’ face and her silver eyes peered out from beneath dark lashes. “Now who’s the poet?”   
“Us,” Zoë decided, kissing her patron lightly. “It takes two for a Poem to be written. One to write it and one to be part of it.”   
“Truly, you are wise,” Artemis laughed, resting her forehead upon Zoë’s. “Oh how I love you and your beautiful intellect.”   
Rolling her eyes, Zoë teasingly pushed her forehead harder against Artemis’, but the gesture quickly devolved into a game. Who could press their forehead harder into the other in a battle of strength and genuine humor.   
They quickly fell into fits of silly laughter and attempts to restart the game that went nowhere after a handful of ridiculous seconds. With a sigh, the goddess drew her lieutenant close, and settled further into the garden bed. Surprisingly comfortable she had no intentions of leaving even if it meant sleeping upon the ground.   
“If only you didn’t need sleep,” Artemis whined playfully, “we could make the most of our remaining time. Not a second wasted by sleep.”  
“Unfortunately,” Zoë sighed, “I am no god.”  
“You are,” Artemis insisted, “to me anyways. You’ve always been worthy of Olympus. More so than most here. It saddens me that I alone can see you. The others are blind. They do not know you as I do. That you are more than your father.”  
“It was always meant to be that way, Arty,” the hesperide’s eyes dimmed, “Before you- only Calypso saw me. When she vanished it was Ladon that was mine. Now it is you. But I have lost both of them, and I have lost you once before. The only difference remains in the fact that I have had you the longest.”  
“I’ve never asked,” the goddess frowned, “what your sisters were like. Do you hate them?”   
“No,” Zoë’s voice wavered, “I could never. No matter what they’ve done to me I am bound to love them. They are my blood. I would...I would do anything to see them once more. Even if they spit at me. Its been so long I-I’ve nearly forgotten their faces.”  
“Your heart is far bigger than anyone gives you credit for,” Artemis studied her lover closely. The girl seemed so sad all of the time. Like life itself was a burden she could not bear.   
“When I was little,” Zoë spoke slowly as if the memories were hard to find, “they would hoist me up on their shoulders until I could reach the branches of trees. I’d spend hours climbing them. Calypso and I would eat the sweetest fruits until the sun made it impossible to stay awake with full stomachs. We’d curl up together in the grass and let the breeze send us off to sleep. They would find us and bring us home so we would not burn under the sun. There were times too when we would play games. Silly things like arm wrestling or catch the coin purse. It was full of dirt but we could hit it off of any body part. Sort of like the modern hacky sack.”   
“What made them change?” Artemis questioned.   
“I began to grow bored. I wanted to explore elsewhere. When the war began I got my chance. I remained neutral and explored the earth around me but in doing so-“Zoë’s voice broke off and the warm flow of tears decorated Artemis’ tunic. “I left Calypso alone. She stood by our father because she could not stand against him alone. She was afraid. Afraid of what our sisters would do. When I returned to learn what had become of her I-I wanted to die. I’d abandoned her when she needed me most. What was worse, she was condemned to a fate worse than hell and there was no escaping it. No matter how much I prayed or pleaded.”  
“You couldn’t have known things would happen as they did,” Artemis soothed, “You were young too. It should never be our job to fight our father’s wars.”  
“What choice do we have?”   
“I don’t know,” Artemis admitted. Zoë remained silent for a moment as Artemis processed her lover’s words. Did they have a choice? Was there really much of an option.   
“I was alone then,” Zoë continued, taking the goddess’ hand in her own, “until the garden was given a new guardian. A dragon, thin, afraid, and unloved. He shivered until his scales rattled. They didn’t understand he was home sick, but I did. So I made him-Ladon-my priority. The more time I spent with him in the garden the more my sisters began to suspect my loyalties had changed. That I would gather ideas as Calypso had, but I would be brave enough to act on them.”   
“They were not wrong,” Artemis noted.   
“No,” Zoë sighed, “but I tried to convince them that our lives were elsewhere. That there was no need for us to serve a father who had never loved us. I knew they were afraid, and in their fear they were keen to cast me out. Only they had no reason to. Not until Hercules.”  
“Fear can do many things,” Artemis breathed, recalling her own fears. “Were you afraid to be on your own?”   
“No,” Zoë shook her head, “because I knew any place was better than home. For some time I tried to find Calypso. I tried so hard but she never turned up. It was hard learning to give up but I couldn’t spend my life searching for someone I wasn’t meant to find.”  
“You found me,” the goddess remarked.   
“I didn’t have to find you. You appeared on your own,” the Hesperide smiled, “even then I hadn’t known who you would become. What you would mean to me. But I didn’t think it was by chance that we met. Not a god and Titan anyways. The universe has made it clear we are to be kept apart. Lest the world fall apart before us. My sisters spoke of stories. That should Titans and gods ever meet again the earth itself would tremble and the surrounding terrain would quiver in fear.”  
“They were not wrong,” Artemis replied.   
“They were,” Zoë countered. “When I’m with you, the earth doesn’t tremble, nature isn’t afraid, it’s as if the universe knows there’s nothing to fear with us. That we could never harm one another as our parents did.”   
“Perhaps,” Artemis spoke slowly, holding Zoë’s gaze, “I am no more a god than you are. You’ve made me...human...in a way.”  
“Everything’s brighter between worlds isn’t it?” Zoë arched a brow, recalling the moon goddess’ words. “I suppose it is,” Artemis smiled faintly. “Like your eyes.”  
Zoë’s expression shifted so her lips parted to form an amused smile, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and her brow creased in a gentle slope, “Mine? Yours are silver.”  
“But yours hold galaxies in them.” Artemis’ gaze settled softly on those charming eyes above her. Her hands rested on either side of her lieutenant’s face, and for a moment Artemis felt like she really was staring at the flesh of the universe.  
So much life was in the girl before her, so much quiet strength, so much mystery and intrigue, so much wonder, love, potential, and beauty. Who could ever love so much so wholly? The idea was daunting. One person should not possess the universe, and yet, there was the moon holding it steady.   
“There are no galaxies without moons,” Zoë whispered, lips brushing against Artemis’. “Every planet has them. You’re mine.”   
Butterflies erupted in temporary panic as the goddess kissed her lieutenant with fervor. Somehow, in the short hours they’d spent together, it seemed like her love for Zoë had grown ten fold. To the point that it nearly hurt.   
Neither needed to say anything as their shared desire became clear. A burning need to be close to one another prevailed over other senses until they were tangled together amongst multicolored petals.   
“Oh dear,” A clipped voice shattered the scene, “making love in a garden? Arty I thought you knew better.”   
In less than a millisecond Artemis stood snarling as a wolf. She remained poised in front of her lieutenant blocking Zoë from the love goddess’ view.   
“Oh please,” Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “you think I wouldn’t be curious. It’s my domain to know these things. Truthfully, I thought it was your brother getting a bit of action. The poor chump’s been miserable as of late.”   
Aphrodite’s words were met with a rather frightening bark. Sharp teeth flashed beneath the moonlight as lips drew back into a low guttural snarl. The hair upon Artemis’ back stood on end in warning and her muscle stood out against taut skin.   
“Hello darling, long time no see,” Aphrodite smirked, attempting to step about the wolf to assess the situation. Artemis, however, rushed to intercept the movement, snapping at the goddess’ dress hem. “You truly are selfish Artemis. The only one allowed to glimpse the true beauty of a Hesperide. Unless, say, you’re hiding something rather unflattering. Is that it? What does she have? A scar? A defect?”  
With every word from the love goddess’ mouth Artemis rage only grew. Sensing the danger at hand, Zoë attempted to reign in her enraged lover but it was no use.   
“Stretch marks?” Aphrodite asked, a sinister gleam in her eyes, “Oh, right. Those don’t happen until after the first term. She didn’t even make it that far did she?”   
All at once anger abandoned the goddess. Ears tucked back, tail sunk, snarl vanished, and a whimper echoed solemnly in the night. With a huff, Artemis turned her back upon her age old enemy. Nuzzling Zoë, Artemis laid upon her in silence, white fur a stark contrast to dark skin.   
At last, the love goddess made on her merry way. A hand settled upon Artemis’ head ruffling her fur and ears. “It’s okay. She’s just bored.”  
Artemis remained silent, head down on her paws, eyes staring ahead, nose releasing the softest of whimpers, and her diaphragm moving in sudden twitches. It took Zoë some time to realize she was crying.   
Small tears travelled down snow colored fur in lazy arches. Zoë did her best to wipe them away, but they were quickly replaced. They remained like that for some time, until no more tears came, no more whimpers, and Artemis returned to her proper form.   
“We should go.”  
“Arty-“  
“I’m alright. Only frustrated,” Artemis promised, but Zoë didn’t believe her. She knew better than that. The two dressed in silence and made a swift return to the goddess’ quarters. Once there, Artemis did her best to ease Zoë’s concern.   
After she was asleep, Artemis made to leave, but her lover wasn’t easily fooled.   
“Where are you going?” Come the sleepy question.   
Lingering, Artemis pressed a tender kiss to Zoë’s temple, “I have something I have to do. I’ll be back. I promise.”   
With a resigned sigh from Zoë, Artemis left her quarters behind. She went in search of Aphrodite. The love goddess was found in her own quarters. The perfumes were stifling, the colors horrific, but Artemis had her mind set on the task at hand.   
“What brings you by?” Aphrodite questioned coyly.   
Artemis grasped the woman by the front of her dress and slammed her roughly against the nearest wall. “You know exactly why I’m here.”  
“Do I?”   
“Why? Why do you insist on ruining what I have?” Artemis demanded, shoving the goddess further into the surface. “What have I done to make you hate me? So what if I can’t be controlled by you? So what if your powers don’t work on me? What gives you the right to mock my losses?”  
“What gives me the right?” Aphrodite chuckled, multicolored eyes narrowing, “darling, I am a god. I can do what I please. I need no permission from you.”   
“You have no power here,” Artemis spat, “everyone can see through you!”  
“Then why do they trip over themselves to aid me?” Aphrodite sneered, leaning close enough for Artemis to see the finest details of her features.   
“Because they love the idea of you.” Pushing away, Artemis looked hottily at the woman across from her. “Nothing more. No one loves you, Aphrodite.”  
“Ares would beg to differ,” the love goddess smiled.   
“You know what I think?” Artemis arched a brow, “I think you don’t even know what love is.”   
“Really?” Aphrodite laughed, eyes smarting. “Go on.”  
“Someone loved you once. Adored you. He wanted to give you nothing but the best and you laughed at him! You mocked him! Cast him out like the unwanted scraps of a kill to be pecked at by buzzards,” Artemis spoke violently, muscles in her jaw twitching with each syllable.  
“Are you talking of Hephaestus? Please, I never loved him.”   
“I think that’s a lie.”   
“You better be careful-“  
“You loved him once. Once long ago when he wasn’t some useless little blacksmith to you. He was someone of value. But when everyone deemed him unfit, ugly, unworthy of love, and disgusting you believed them. You created a bitter man in the wake of your vanity. One who despises the person he used to adore,” Artemis studied Aphrodite closely, but the goddess remained oddly calm.   
“Hephaestus was never more than a piece to my game.”  
“For Ares? You think he loves you? No,” Artemis shook his head, “he doesn’t love you. You don’t love him. You’re too vain to love anything. He’s too vain to live anything.”  
“Love and War are the same,” Aphrodite countered with an annoyed flick of the wrist, “you can’t act as if we don’t belong together. We exist together.”  
“Just because two things go hand in hand doesn’t mean it’s love,” Artemis replied coldly.  
“And you would know this?”   
“I would,” Artemis nodded.   
“How?” Aphrodite sneered.   
“Because by your definition of love, that would mean I used to love you.” Artemis’ words finally grasped the love goddess’ attention. “I never have. I never will. But we go hand in hand do we not? Love and chastity, maidenhood and romance, even Virginity and lust. We exist together in every daughter’s life. We are inseparable in every facet of human communication, but I would rather die than consider us equals.”   
“You speak boldly,” Aphrodite scoffed, “but you’re wrong.”   
“Am I?” Artemis asked. “How can Love love, if you do not love yourself? What is your identity? Nothing. You exist as a social construct because you allow yourself to be shaped by everyone around you! I pity you! I pity that you have nothing to be because you’ve never been anything.”  
“I don’t want your pity,” Aphrodite hissed.   
“Everyone says love is vindictive, cruel, painful, narcissistic, useless, a wast of time, conceited, manipulative, and deceitful,” Artemis watched as Aphrodite paced about the room with white knuckled fists.   
“That is everything you believe of me and my children you blasphemous hypocrite!” Wheeling about, Aphrodite hurled a glittering dagger of glass. The blade embedded itself in Artemis’ shoulder. Crossing the room swiftly, Aphrodite gripped the quaking goddess by the chin.   
“I never believed those things,” Artemis breathed.   
“You lie.”   
“No,” Artemis shook her head slightly, “I believe love is an opportunity. Why else would I let my hunters leave? Why else would I let them go if I didn’t believe in love? You think I don’t understand it? I have always loved too much. That is why I exist in a state of sorrow. I am destined to have a broken heart whether it is your doing or not. I’ve lost my brother in his search for attention, I have lost my mother, I have lost my family in countless wars, and still I love. I cannot live without it. You say I chastise your beliefs but you have never sought to understand my own.”   
“What could you possibly tell me that isn’t true in my assumptions?” Aphrodite demanded, grip tightening painfully.   
“I swore off the love of men. I didn’t swear off love. I didn’t banish you. I didn’t pretend you didn’t exist. Because you did. To me you existed in my family, the love I have for my brother, my mother, and the creatures I swear to protect. But you never existed for me in the form of man. I cannot love them. Even if I tried I would fall short. I never turned my back on your influence. I never denied that you could not shape aspects of my life. There was never a reason for you to hate me. For you to punish me because you believed I had no correlation to you. Your perception of love is whether or not you can woo someone. Prey on sexual desire. You have no effect over me in those regards. You never will. That doesn’t mean you are weak. That doesn’t make me stronger than you. It means that I don’t value such things like you believe.”   
“You talk a lot of beliefs for someone who has little to believe in,” Aphrodite grasped the handle of her blade and pulled it free. She released the huntress with a disgusted look.   
“I believe that there will come a time when you understand...we are not enemies as you’ve made us. I will protect my family from you but I won’t destroy you. Not as you’ve done to me. I have never wanted this. I have only wanted a place to call my own.”  
“Yet you wander.”   
“Because home is where the heart is, and as I’ve said, I love too much.” Straightening, Artemis covered her wound with the flat of her palm feeling a warm trickle of ichor. “Even you. Though you may ruin me, you are family and my blood, by duty I cannot abandon you.”  
“You don’t love me you fool,” Aphrodite laughed, though her voice sounded distant, “you only love those you can fix. I’m not another sob story for you to rewrite. You can take your self righteous self and leave. We’re finished here. And I hope that whatever comes of you and that damn girl-there will never be offspring. I don’t need anyone else like you telling me who I am.”  
“Well,” Artemis swallowed tightly, “You won’t have to worry. You made it quite clear. That dream died before it even showed.”   
Turning curtly on her heel, Artemis retreated back to her room. The discussion hadn’t gone as planned, but she knew that no matter how much Aphrodite protested, her words had struck a chord. The love goddess would have nothing but eternity to think of them. Whether that fixed anything or not, Artemis didn’t care. She’d made herself clear. She never banished love from her life. She only banished a facet of it.


	5. Chapter Five

So most of you probably know by now I’m heavily considering a little Zartemis baby(ies) and I wanted your input on the idea(s) so if you don’t mind please fill out this quick three-ish questioned survey!!!

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/SJZMVNR


	6. Chapter Six

Okay, thank you all for doing the poll. It’s helping me decide what to do. I have one more as of now regarding names! I read over some of yours and I did in fact like them and some gave me ideas. Now, they may not be on the list because I did compile ones I liked too. But please go tell me which one or ones (I forget if you can rank them) you like best! Once again, your opinions matter and will be taken into account but depending on how my own tastes change I may go a different direction. However, I find it important to keep you all involved!! Much love!

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZJQ2D7J


	7. Chapter Seven

It was the final day of the three she’d been given, and it was a battle. A battle not to fall into despair when there was still so much to together.   
When Zoë had woken to find Artemis carefully bandaging a wound, her previous suspicions of what Artemis had done came to fruition. She lingered for a moment in bed watching her patron struggle to complete the dressing with one hand. Then, unable to watch such pitiful attempt anymore, Zoë spoke, “Love’s blade strikes again does it not?”   
Artemis glanced up from her work to meet the reproachful expression of her lover. “I could not let her waltz away from such an infraction without understanding the pain of her words.”   
“Will you let me help you?” Zoë sighed, as the goddess stood moving carefully to settle in bed beside the lieutenant. “What all transpired?”   
With a long sigh, Artemis spoke carefully trying to recall the details of he conversation. Zoë listened intently while working on the healing wound. She said nothing, only nodded on occasion to assure Artemis she was listening, and only when her lover ceased speaking offered her voice, “You shouldn’t have gone alone. She is a vengeful spirit.”   
“I know,” Artemis gazes steadily at the floor, “but I feel that the injury though unwarranted was worth the release of centuries’ burden.”   
“Perhaps,” Zoë nodded, but she had little doubt the love goddess would change her ways.   
“Did you sleep alright?” Artemis asked, studying Zoë with care. She searched for any signs of weariness but there were none.   
“Yes, though it would have been a comfort to have you. When I woke, well, for the briefest moment I thought you’d vanished. But reason won,” Zoë assured, though her words drew a sad expression from the moon goddess.   
“Let me rest for some time, and then the day shall be yours. To do whatever it is you please. Your heart’s desire is my job to fill in any way necessary,” Artemis collected the Hesperide’s hands in her own to stare intently at those warm eyes she’d come to love.   
Upon pressing the lightest kiss to her lover’s lips, the goddess curled into the bed greedily and guiltily. The loss of blood had drained her more than she would have liked. Still, Zoë, ever faithful laid beside her. She remained there even when Artemis had drifted off into a light sleep. She was there too lightly trace the features of her deepest love with light caresses from her fingertips.   
Zoë would have been content to live in that moment forever if she could. Seeing Artemis so peaceful, so beautiful, and so at home was something of a forbidden fruit. There were too many times the Hesperide had found the goddess looking impossibly lost in her own home.   
Then, as if it had been the blink of an eye, the goddess stirred. Her lashes fluttered like the slow wings of a bitterly drifting on a warm breeze before revealing those silver eyes. They were intense in every aspect and the window to Artemis’ very soul should anyone care to look.   
“Have you been away this whole time?” Artemis asked gently, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair brewing Zoë’s ear.   
“I couldn’t bring myself to look away,” Zoë admitted, earning the tiniest but warmest smile possible from her patron.   
“Have you thought of what you’d like to spend the day doing?”   
“We should play,” Zoë decided, “like we used to. Like the world isn’t watching and it’s us. Just us with the sun above. When we were young and reckless and naive.”   
“I was never young, dear,” Artemis whispered ever so softly, “no one allowed it.”   
“Well I am,” Zoë promised, “be young now.”   
“Alright,” Artemis nodded, slowly clambering from the bed.  
— — —  
They traipsed through the long grass in its vibrant hues towards the thick grove of trees rimming the mountainside just above satyr homes.   
Zoë purposefully chose the most difficult of paths just to extend the journey in nonsensical ways. They’d stopped to inspect a caterpillar for a handful of minutes as it crawled lazily upon a stone. The creature had been something Artemis knew of but had never bothered to inspect. She was truly fascinated by it. How those things would one day become butterflies or moths was astounding.   
All the while, Zoë looked on in wonderment at the simple soul of her patron. How whole heartedly she adored something as easy minded as a caterpillar to a creature as complex as a bear.   
The Goddess was only pried away from the expedition when the caterpillar finally disappeared from sight and she continued the chase with Zoë. Even now as they ran, the two would glance up to see birds soaring overhead and surge to keep pace with them.   
Air whipping at hair, tugging at clothes, and gracing the skin with soft touches was a sensation that had been missing for far too long in Artemis’ life. She had forgotten how beautiful it was. How intoxicating. The way it carried Zoë’s laughter in a caress of the breeze back to her. Or how it brought with It scents of wilderness untamed and unloved.   
Up ahead Zoë skidded to a vault glancing over her shoulder to see if Artemis was still in pursuit. Sure enough the goddess was, but it was clear Artemis’ attention was captured by numerous things. It was like watching someone return to the world having been shut inside for too long.   
Only when Artemis paused beside Zoë and settled their foreheads together for the briefest moments did the goddess’ attention refocus. This was Zoë’s day. Smiling as she hadn’t in years, Artemis followed her lover into the thick groves shivering at the drop in temperature. She’d forgotten how mysterious the shade was.   
Soil sticking to the soles of her feet, leaves giving out beneath her heels, and stones pressing into the ground, Artemis ran on and on and on until Zoë took to a tree.   
It’s trunk was wide like three little sprouts had accidentally melded together to produce such a giant piece of nature. Grasping the limbs, Artemis pulled herself up drawing level with the Hesperide.   
The two remained quiet aside from soft laughter and shared smiles as they climbed. Only, the climb seemed to go on forever. No matter how many limbs they grasped and surpassed there were twice as many left to clamber up.   
On occasion they would pause and catch their breath sitting shoulder to shoulder in content solitude. Then, with a start, they would remember their task and set off for the top once more. Exhausted as they were, they couldn’t have been happier. Sometimes they were even greeted by the breath of a breeze to cool the faint sheen of sweat upon their skin sending chills down their spines.   
“I see it!” Zoë declared, looking down upon the beaming face of Artemis with a smile of her own. With renewed energy and strength they pressed on until at last, at last, the created the last limb clinging to the large trunk for balance. Then, with care, they stood.   
Breaking through the upper most canopy the sun greeted them with warm rays to decorate their faces. The view below was magnificent. Artemis was certain her heart faltered at the beauty below. Green grass sprawled out in lengths of open space dotted with flowers only to greet glittering marble structures like some illusion dancing in the hot air of a desert.   
A laugh burst from her lips like that of an amazed child which only drew one of equal amazement from Zoë. Closing her eyes, Artemis felt the wind run it’s hand through her hair and then, tilting slightly to far forward, she let it carry her down.   
The feeling of falling was familiar, the sinking of the gut, the roar in the ears, and then the ground. The ground so close and so massive. Until, just before it was too late, she shifted letting wings guide her safely down.   
The goddess toppled over onto the grass taking human form once more to sprawl out face upturned to the sun chest heaving. Then, the worried face of a familiar girl came into view and everything was alright because Artemis had been there before.   
She’d fallen once a long time ago, arm wounded as it was now, laying aghast upon the ground in a blanket of grass where a Titan’s daughter collected her.   
“Are you alright?” Zoë asked.  
“Yes,” Artemis breathed, and she realized there were tears upon her cheeks. She was certain Zoë had taken them as a result of the violent wind on the way down, but that was untrue. Artemis couldn’t understand why she would be crying but there was a sense of complete relief in the moment. The universe had come full circle in that moment and she was certain more than anything that they were bound together for life. Whatever life was anymore. “Yes, I’m alright.”  
Smiling, Zoë took Artemis’ extended hand only to be pulled down into the grass atop the other girl. “You’re crying. Why?”   
“I don’t know,” Artemis admitted, “but that’s okay.”  
“Yeah?” Zoë asked.   
“Everything is okay,” Artemis assured. Closing her eyes, Artemis let the sun warm her as it had numerous times before, while glittering tears slid down her cheeks in gentle archs, and Zoë wiped them away with care.   
— — —  
The two had spent the evening playing, but as the day drew closer to its end an overwhelming desire took shape wordlessly between them. There was the frantic sense of time slipping by that couldn’t be wasted.   
With a mere handful of hours left the lay together as nothing more than a bundle of weak limbs. Still, this never ending fear of seconds passing by persisted.   
“I can’t,” Zoë shook her head in defeat, sadness and fear clouding her features. “I can’t-“  
“I know,” Artemis replied, kissing her lieutenant messily, weakly, and with raw lips. She herself felt like she’d been put through a blender but there was the flame of desire still sparking in her chest. She needed Zoë, needed to know every detail of the other girl’s body from memory, to possess her as much as she possibly could now because tomorrow she would be gone, and knowing that only fanned the flame.   
But Zoë was no god and her body would not endure. It was already wearing the marks of countless battles, bruises upon her neck and collar bone, faint crescents embedded in the skin of her back, the faint shaking of her legs now past their limits, the light indentation of teeth upon the shoulder, or even the rawness of her chest, the tenderness of her lips, and the brimming of tears in her eyes.   
Yet, Artemis knew very well that she wore equal signs of war. War against time and love and desperation. Knew she too could not go on lest she go mad. Knew that Zoë could not snuff out the desire rebuilding itself into a rabid flame in her chest.   
So they had nothing but painful kisses to share and shaking hands to touch ever so gently the marks they’d left behind. To feel some guilt and satisfaction in the evidence. Until at last it was time to prepare for the departure they’d inevitably been avoiding to acknowledge.   
Bodies worn, aching, and fragile, they shared one last bath together nearly falling asleep in the soothing warm water. Memories of the day came flooding back and Artemis could only hold her lieutenant closer.   
She recalled the warmth of the sun, the ease at which they forgot the rest of the world existed, and how lovely Zoë looked with the wind tossling her hair. How her laugh sounded when carried upon the breeze, or the way her smile grew with her excitement, and even the way she ran was somehow more beautiful than ever.   
When it was time to leave the bathroom behind, Artemis replaced Zoë’s old fashioned chiton from the underworld with a set of the few mortal clothes she kept about. Then, once dressed, Zoë sat in front of her patron one more time. The goddess worked expertly on the set of intricate braids that slowly began to form a delicate crown. Her care and effortless skill nearly lulled Zoë to sleep but rest wasn’t an option for either of them at the moment.   
“There,” Artemis announced he’d finished work.   
Zoë’s fingers reached up and back to ghost lightly over the finished work of her goddess. “Thank you.”  
“Mhm,” Artemis replied, briefly nuzzling her face into the hesperide’s shoulder and drawing in a deep breath. She was reminded again of the comfort in Zoë’s scent. “We must go,” Zoë reminded, worrying that should they surpass the mark of allotted time any hope of future meetings would dissipate.   
Artemis stood reluctantly, and walked as slow as possible to the throne room with Zoë in tow. Hades was waiting as expected, and her father too. Both brothers were in the midst of a discussion that died on their lips upon the entrance of the two girls.   
“Zoë,” Zeus nodded in recognition of the other girl.   
“Lord,” Zoë replied cordially, with a slight nod of her own. Artemis, surprised her father bothered to recognize the Hesperide gave a small smile of thanks.   
“Time is up,” Hades interjected, “however, you can say your goodbyes. I don’t mind if it takes a little time.”  
“Right,” Zeus agreed. Both brothers retreated ever so slightly leaving the two girls in a small bubble of privacy.   
At first neither spoke. Artemis was unsure of what to say, and she was certain once she tried to say something her words would grow jumbled and incoherent. Thankfully, Zoë seemed to have her wits about her. “You’ll go back to the others right?”  
Artemis nodded.   
“They need you too, and they’ll have missed you,” Zoë continued. “Can you do that?”  
“Yes, it is my responsibility to and truthfully I have missed them though my focus has been on you,” Artemis admitted.   
“Alright,” Zoë smiled.   
“I’ll try and talk to my father,” Artemis began, “see if he’ll allow you to stay here. I don’t care what I have to agree to as long as it means we won’t be separate forever. Luck played in my favor this time but I doubt it will again. I’ll have to be diplomatic.”  
“Don’t worry yourself,” Zoë frowned, “I trust you’ll try but there is the likely hood that your wishes won’t be allowed like they were this time. Still, I’ll have a little hope and I promise to think of you. Not that I didn’t before.”  
“I know,” Artemis laughed softly, “and you’ll be in my thoughts too. Always have been.”  
“Look after yourself too, please.”   
“I will.”   
“Tell your sister I say hello. I don’t think I got to meet her again,” Zoë mused.   
“I will, and she’ll be glad to have heard from you,” Artemis assured.   
Once mor silence fell. The Goddess was more than aware of the emotions welling up inside of her. There were so many things she wanted to say, to express, but she knew none of them not how to verbalize such thoughts.   
She didn’t want her lieutenant to go, that was obvious, but it was all that went with Zoë that she would be losing too. The lingering scent of the girl on her pillows when they woke in the mornings, the feeling of a soft gaze studying Artemis when she was just waking, the way such experienced hands could be so light against the skin, or the amusement in her eyes when Artemis wondered at the smallest of things, how her lips would curl at the edges while fighting a smile, the slant of her brow when it creased in worry, how sun rays seemingly refracted off of Zoë’s skin like gold meeting bronze, and how utterly wonderful the Hesperide was in every sense of intellect, spirit, love, youth, and beauty.   
“There’s nothing left to say is there?” Artemis whispered, carefully studying her lover’s eyes.   
“I don’t know where I would start,” Zoë admitted.   
“You know we will regret not saying more,” Artemis warned, but there was nothing they could do. What was said was said and what was unsaid would come to light later.   
“Perhaps,” Zoë shrugged. Nodding, Artemis took in the beloved features that Zoë Nightshade possessed one last time before letting their lips fall together.   
The kiss was slow, gentle, sweet, and impossibly tender. Only when necessary did they part. Even then Zoë stole a few chaste touches of the lips.   
“You should go,” Artemis breathed, not realizing she’d pulled the other girl flush against her in search of security and warmth. “Before I won’t let you.”  
Zoë understood what he’d patron meant. Right in that moment Artemis was content, at peace, and okay with sending her off to the Isle of the Blessed. Should more time pass, however, Artemis would not be so willing in making the decision and it would only leave her devastated.   
With a final squeeze of the hand, Zoë walked briskly, chin up, shoulders back, to where the elder gods stood. Little words were exchanged before she and Hades departed in a flash of dark light.   
The room was impossibly empty. For the briefest of seconds both father and daughter shared a look. It was unreadable, uncertain, and odd, but both were studying the other in resigned curiosity. Then, at last, Artemis disappeared too. She had a hunt to lead, after all and there was no time to waste with silence.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this when I was very tired so sorry if the spelling is horrible

She approached the camp silently, nearly undetected, until the wolves perked up and alerted the cluster of girls gathered about a fire. They seemed to sense that Artemis wouldn’t be able to tolerate an onslaught of affection, her aura warned of difficult times, but never the less they each gave the goddess fond and welcoming smiles. A few even mumbled words of comfort.   
But, there was one person in particular who did not possess all of the social awareness that the others did, and that was Thia. Sure, Artemis had left things in Thalia’s care, but she never expected her niece to be spending time at the camp. Not when there were countless other things for her to be doing, spending time with friends, participating in New Rome activities, pursuing hobbies, or even sleeping in without a care in the world. Yet, there she was...running over much like she used to as a little kid to tackle Artemis in a hug.   
“Hey there stranger,” Thia laughed.   
“Hello,” Artemis smiled. “My, you’re much older than I remember. Has it really been that long?”  
“Handful of years,” Thia shrugged. “But you’re busy so I don’t hold it against you. I’ve been busy too...more or less.”  
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” Artemis insisted, earning an endearing grin that mirrored Thalia’s exactly. “Sister, it’s nice to see you haven’t let everything burn to the ground.”   
“It was tempting,” Thalia shrugged, “but I promised Rey I wouldn’t participate in any arson activities this time.”   
“So no setting marsh mellows on fire,” Thia whispered. The Goddess only suppressed a laugh. She’d nearly forgotten how comforting family was. Well, at least the family that cared about you even if you didn’t necessarily want them to.   
“I see,” Artemis sighed, “well, you are relieved of your post. I am now available to resume my command for some time.”  
“If you need me just call,” Thalia smiled, “besides I miss these losers sometimes.”   
A chorus of protests shot up from the other girls and a few went so far as pegging Thalia with little pebbles. “You know you’re the first person I would ask for help.”  
“Can we stay the night?” Thia interjected.   
“Why are you asking me?” Thalia snorted, “you’re an adult. You have been for a while. You can do what you want.”   
“But you’re still my mom,” Thia frowned.   
“You can stay,” Artemis mused, interrupting before Thalia could tease Thia. “I don’t mind. Besides, you promised to catch me up on what I’ve missed.”   
“Sweet!” Thia pumped her fist and followed the goddess like a puppy into the largest empty tent. “Okay, there’s so much. I almost don’t know where to start.”   
“The best parts first,” Artemis decided, sitting across from her enthusiastic niece.   
However, to Thia, everything was the best part. Artemis was amazed by how easily this girl saw things in a positive light despite how dark some of her stories were. It was almost like no matter how hard the universe tried to bring her down, Thia wouldn’t allow it. There was no room for it in her narrative. This little trait of hers, the tenacity she possessed, was so endearing to Artemis she only felt her love for the girl grow.   
So she listened to every word like it was the most important in the universe. She learned of Thia’s adventures, of her friends, of her schooling and studies, and most interestingly a girlfriend.   
“What’s she like?” Artemis frowned, prepared to judge this person for herself. The last thing she wanted was someone squashing Thia’s little heart because she was too trusting.   
“Well, she’s amazing. Brilliant even, and she’s taken the position of praetor. It’s the first time my mother has ever felt like she’s putting New Rome in good hands,” Thia smiled, her eyes lighting up like little candles. “She has a big family and she’s used to being over looked. Kind of like how I was. So we got along nicely. She’s humble but opinionated which is good because it means she listens but isn’t a push over. Sometimes I am so she balances me out. She’s also really pretty but not like a model. She’s just...her. Her eyes are this mix of green that’s like the clear surface of water shining on rocks and emeralds. She has an adorable smile where her nose wrinkles. She even has an amazing talent- making her ears wiggle.”   
“Really?” Artemis laughed, finding that only Thia would invest so much excitement into such a detail. “Why, she sounds amazing. Perfect for you.”  
“Think so?” Thia stammered, as if Artemis’ opinion meant the world to her.   
“I may know a little on the topic of girlfriends,” Artemis mused.   
“Right,” Thia nodded, “sorry...I forgot.”   
“Don’t be,” Artemis waved off the apology with ease. She could never be mad at the girl before her. The one who was indeed very much an adult but who was also no more than the little sprite of a child she’d come to know and love.   
“Mama said you were trying to sort out business about Her,” Thia spoke slowly, almost as if she were walking on ice in fear of it breaking.   
“I was,” Artemis nodded.   
“How did it go?”   
“Alright,” the goddess sighed, “I was allowed three days. After years of waiting it seemed like forever and at the same time-it was only a blink. A breath, a word, a sigh, brief and not at all lasting.”   
“I suppose you’re here because you had to say goodbye,” Thia’s brow creased together in the same way Reyna’s did, and Artemis was reminded how much of a perfect blend Thia was between her parents.   
“Yes.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It isn’t your fault. You weren’t even alive when she passed,” Artemis assured, resting a gentle hand upon a slender shoulder. “I don’t even blame Luke. I blame the loveless heart of a father who had no right to harm someone he so willingly tossed aside.”   
“Do you think you could reason with him like you did with Grandpa?” Thia hoped. The small shimmer in her eyes, the slight arch of a smile on her lips, and the expectant expression sent a jolt of sadness through the goddess. Thia believed so whole heartedly that everyone could be forgiven, that they could change, and that no one was so calloused that they couldn’t understand their wrongs, but Thia was naive.   
“No, Thia, I’m afraid not,” Artemis’ gaze fell upon the floor. “He is not a man to be reasoned with. He is cruel, and he would just as surely kill her again should he have the chance. If not because he hates her than because he hates me. I doubt even you could sway him.”   
“Oh,” Thia swallowed, the light fading in her eyes, “I see.”  
“I’m sorry,” Artemis’ brow furrowed in sorrow, “I know you wish-“  
“Not everyone can change,” Thia determined, “I know that. I just hoped that maybe it was worth a shot. For you anyways. And maybe I can reason with Grandpa. Convince him to let you have her back. He owes me a favor-“  
“That would be far to big of a favor to ask of him,” Artemis interrupted.  
“I don’t understand. Surely it’s not that difficult,” Thia stammered.   
“It would go against anything anyone has ever believed me to be. Man has written my identity without so much as a word from my mouth on how it should be written. They depict me as a heartless, lonesome, calloused, and unloving woman. Should I have a lover upon Olympus that image would be untrue. Not to mention my fellow Olympians would only ask my father for equal favors. For their lovers to be granted immortality too.”   
“That’s different,” Thia shook her head, “your love is centuries old and their’s is only an infatuation. Maybe one in ten isn’t.”   
“That may be true, but there are laws, and I have broken many of them already,” Artemis swallowed tightly, and it was then that their conversation died. “Now, this isn’t something you need to worry over. It isn’t your responsibility so I don’t expect you to think hard on it. Understand?”  
“Yeah,” Thia nodded.   
“Good,” Artemis smiled thinly, “now do whatever you wish. Believe it or not I am tired.”  
“Goodnight,” Thia’s lips twitched into a half smile, “see you again? Soon?”  
“Soon,” Artemis nodded, already settling into bed. She heard the flap of the tent billow slightly, signaling Thia’s departure.   
— — —  
Nearly a month passed between Artemis’ reunion with her hunters and the difficulty before her. She had never been prone to the effects of the seasons so much as she was now.   
Breeding season was just underway and the wilderness responded with a flourish of commotion and movement. With it brought the side effects of having one’s domain in the wilderness. Artemis was as vulnerable to the changes in the air as the creatures she protected.   
Only, it had never been an issue before. She had Zoë, and the girl would fulfill any needs her patron had through the difficult weeks ahead. But Zoë wasn’t there and Artemis was left by her lonesome.   
At first, the others didn’t notice, but then the wolves began to act up. Previously, Artemis was able to quell their instincts, but now she couldn’t. The wolves were in heat and there was no male to breed with. The culmination of their goddess’ discomfort only worsened their own, and the creatures became obstinate, grouchy, and irritable. To the point that hunting was nearly impossible.   
And try as Artemis might, there was no way to ignore the burning in her stomach, the fire in her bones, and the ache of desire left untouched. She could barely muster the energy to lead her hunters let alone track a monster while keeping track of her troops. And most evenings she spent alone in her tent, curled on her side, breathing shallowly, heavily, with a sheen of sweat on her skin as she tried desperately not to think of the only person who could relieve her of the burden she carried. Sure, Artemis could take care of things herself, but she had never stopped to that level. There was only one person who had the right to touch her in such ways and it certainly wasn’t herself.   
But this stubbornness only made things worse. Some evenings when desire grew more painful than an ache and it felt like her whole body would spontaneously combust Artemis was left to cry quietly. Other times she seemingly slipped into a fever. Her body would simply shut down in frustration of its deprivation.   
What was worse, things were bad enough for her fellow Olympians to take notice. During one of the few meetings they had it wasn’t lost on the others how horrible she looked. Dark circles clung to her eyes as if she hadn’t slept in centuries, her skin was somehow paler than normal, covered in a faint sweat, her eyes darted everywhere unable to focus on any single object or person, and she shifted constantly in her seat as if a comfortable position didn’t exist.   
On the second occasion that she showed up so worse for wear Zeus approached his brightest offspring in search of answers. He had never seen his daughter so out of sorts, so much in pain and so agitated.   
“It’s what comes with her domain,” Athena explained patiently. “No different than the satyrs frolicking about the terraces now. It’s natural and unavoidable.”  
“Why is it I’ve never seen this...phase?” Zeus frowned.  
“She had her lieutenant to relieve her,” Athena pursed her lips.   
“Before that though,” Zeus drawled, “before the girl. Why not then?”   
“She was young, unaware, naive, and she had no domain yet. These feelings only manifest when desire takes shape. For some time it was absent. Then, when it takes root it grows over time. The stronger a connection you have the worse it is. Some smaller deities suffer the same consequences of having relationships. As long as this effect has taken shape in Artemis she had never been without a source of relief.”   
“Why doesn’t she just...” Zeus stammered, unsure of the words he ought to use, “Please herself?”  
“She won’t do it. Before, grief helped distract her. Even then I tried to encourage her to give up on her stubbornness but she’s principled. She refuses adamantly. Only one person has the right to even think of doing such things and that person isn’t available.”  
With that, Athena dismissed the conversation feeling that she’d already told her father far more than what Artemis would have liked. Still, she knew he was curious for Aremis’ own good. In fact, Athena was seriously worried for her baby sister. She, like Zeus, had never seen something so bad. Even in other wilderness gods, minor or not, she’d never seen anything so bad.   
It seemed that there was little anyone could do for her but offer condolences Artemis likely didn’t hear of ignored.   
But after another week of the “insufferable behavior” as Ares deemed it, a counsel was finally drawn. The silence was suffocatingly awkward and Athena knew very well what this was about. There was only one solution to the matter and it happened to revolve around another issue at hand.   
“Sitting in silence will get us no where,” Hera remarked, “let’s not act like cowardly children and at least address the elephant in the room.”  
“There’s an elephant?” Hermes asked, glancing about in wonder. His joke drew some laughter effectively easing the atmosphere.   
“No, you dolt,” Apollo shook his head, “there’s no elephant unless you’re calling me sister an elephant. In that case she is neither here, and I would have to smite you for such an insult.”   
“Personally I like elephants,” Demeter shrugged.   
“Enough on elephants,” Zeus snorted, running a hand down his face. “We are not here for elephants. We are here to decide whether or not we let the Titan girl remain here or not.”  
“I say no,” Ares decided. “I think it’s foolish. There is a system of life and death that tampered with could be dangerous.”   
“I see no danger with it and I invented the system,” Hades replied. “I see no issue in allowing Artemis to have her lover here. It’s no secret at this point how connected the two are. Frankly I’m amazed it took some of you so long to realize they were together to begin with.”   
“Don’t look at me,” Dionysus held up his hands, “I have the camp I’m at most of the time. I hardly see any of your ugly mugs.”   
“My point is that it’s no different than Dionysus and his wife,” Hades clasped his hands together.   
“Fair point,” the wine god admitted, “but personally mine is far prettier and vibrant.”   
“This isn’t a competition,” Athena interjected.   
“Sorry,” Dionysus grumbled.   
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Hephaestus sighed. “I have no qualms against either of them but I worry the minor gods will ask for similar favors and down the line even some of you. Allowing such an exception could set a precedent I don’t think any of us would like to follow.”   
“True indeed,” Zeus nodded, stroking his beard.   
“The question we must face isn’t a diplomatic one,” Athena noted, “but one regarding a family member.”  
“You can’t allow familial bias to muddy your waters, Athena,” Aphrodite chided.   
“And you can’t allow your contempt to do the same,” Athena replied haughtily.   
“I see it as this,” Aphrodite continued, ignoring Athena, “there is a girl that holds some value to Artemis. Nothing more. We all have people we care about that are part of another world that don’t belong here. Our own children don’t belong here. What’s the difference? Artemis was lucky enough to have the privilege of centuries with this girl...she knew the consequences of temporary immortality was death.”   
“It seems that this isn’t some minor infatuation-“ Hephaestus began only to be interrupted.   
“It seems very much like an obsession,” Ares concluded.   
“No,” Hephaestus spoke coldly, “I was not going to say such a thing. I was going to say that from my perspective it appears that this girl, this person who clearly means a lot to Artemis, is almost a source of her own life.”   
“Preposterous,” Demeter frowned, “Ive never heard of such a thing.”   
“He may be right,” Poseidon spoke for the first time. “Artemis knew very little of life before Zoë. Not just the girl, she has a name I suggest using it, and at least have some respect for her. Let’s not forget that she served faithfully for centuries aiding some of our own children who joined Artemis. She guided them, protected them, and looked out for them when we could not. She also returned my niece to Olympus when she very well could have refused. Upon this she faced her father which I know how difficult such a feat is. Don’t disgrace a warrior because you do not understand them.”   
Silence settled in the throne room. Athena made a brief moment of eye contact with the ocean god, and for once she felt some respect for the man. He was right in every word. She gave a small nod of approval.   
“Uncle is right,” Apollo agreed, “I know what my sister is going through.”  
“How?” Ares snorted.   
“I have never been alone in life,” Apollo explained, “and even in the womb I was not alone. Though I fight with my sister and we do not see eye to eye on many things-I can’t imagine life without her. It would surely kill me. When she was captured by Atlas I intervened against the laws but I had no guilt in it. Why would I? She’s my blood and I would do anything for her. Our existence is tied together. My life is her life. We live together we die together.”  
“Valiant speech but what is the point?” Aphrodite demanded.   
“He’s saying that Zoë’s existence is as tied to Artemis’ as Apollo’s is,” Poseidon concluded. “They cannot truly live without the other. They have become each other’s life. It’s not different than my son and daughter in law. They met when they were children, grew up together, depended on one another, and faced challenges only imaginable by many together. When you face trials and tribulations with someone you develop a bond only you and that other person will understand. As much as Athena and I argue when my son and Annabeth fell into Tartarus she was the only person who understood my worries. That and Hades. Because of this, I am grateful for having a person to turn to. Though she may irritate me endlessly I don’t forget what we endured together.”   
“It’s no different than my son and Bianca. When Bianca passed it tore him apart. There are some people you can live without but there are those you would rather die with than life without,” Hades smiled thinly at his brother.   
“Then it appears we must deliberate,” Zeus sighed, “and I would like to hear an argument from each of you on your stance. Do we allow this breaking of the rules or not? Hera, dear, you may start.”


	9. Chapter Nine

“The counsel hasn’t made a decision yet but father is allowing you to got to the underworld to sort out your mess,” Athena remarked, walking briskly into her sister’s chambers to find Artemis curled on her side holding a pillow like a koala.   
“It’s not that simple,” came the faint reply followed by a shuddering breath.   
“Really? Because I thought you’d be gone in an instant. From what I gather Zoë’s very good at-“  
“Stop,” Artemis growled, fixing her sister with a steely gaze. “I know very well what she’s capable of.”   
“Then I don’t understand,” Athena frowned, throwing her hands up in frustration.   
“You wouldn’t,” Artemis sighed, squeezing the pillow harder between her knees. “Damn you.”  
“Listen,” Athena started, “this is for your own good. Don’t be so stubborn. If you won’t go to her at least handle this yourself.”   
“No. You know I won’t.”   
“Then what holding you back?” Athena demanded. There was a long drawn out pause between the two siblings.   
“She is more than some physical attraction and I won’t see her just to take her to bed. I won’t degrade her like that,” Artemis spoke firmly, and Athena finally understood the reason behind her sister’s stupidity.   
“Artemis, she knows you value her for who she is. If you didn’t why else would we be arguing over her? You could have any person on this mountain top to take to bed if you wanted and none of us would bat an eye,” Athena huffed, exasperated by the situation.   
“Your reason is-“  
“My reason is right, now stop moping and get out of bed or so help me,” Athena warned, crossing the room and tearing the pillow away to drag Artemis to her feet, “I will drag her from her home in the underworld and bring her here if not to sleep with you than to chastise you for being so foolish.”   
“She wouldn’t chastise me,” Artemis scoffed, the two girls bickering like they hadn’t in eons. At last, with a final shove from Athena Artemis stumbled into the hallway and vanished cursing in her head all the while.   
But even as she wandered through the underworld the prospect of even seeing Zoë made her pulse reel and she was forced to stop in occasions to collect herself. Managing to make her way up the steps to the familiar home, the goddess’ knuckles rapped lightly against the door.   
It was opened hesitantly to start with and then all at once. “Artemis?”   
“I’m sorry for coming under such terms but my sister insisted,” Artemis started but Zoë had already taken note of her lover’s appearance and her expression darkened, “that I come see you.”   
“I knew my departure was on poor timing. You were already showing signs,” Zoë sighed, taking Artemis’ face in her hands and tilting it in the light to see how truly tired the goddess looked. “Arty, you should have come sooner.”  
“I didn’t want you to think that all I ever want to do is take you to bed,” Artemis worried, but even as she said those words she could see the mild disappointment in Zoë’s eyes as she rested her forehead against the goddess’.  
“You’re so foolish,” the Hesperide sighed, “but it comes from a place of love.”   
“I’m sorry.”   
“Don’t be,” Zoë shook her head, tucking loose strands of damp hair behind Artemis’ ear. “You have nothing to be sorry over.”   
“Well, if I had listened then-“ Artemis was interrupted by a light kiss that short circuited her brain and drove her train of thought into the ground. Just the slightest grace of the lips made her knees weak and all at once she held Zoë’s hands in her own and pressed them to her body.   
“Stop talking,” Zoë laughed.   
“Promise me you won’t tease,” Artemis pleaded.   
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”   
Artemis was all too willing to settle upon the bed and didn’t wait to be undressed, instead willing her clothes to vanish in an instant. It was times like these she was reminded just how experienced Zoë really was, and she couldn’t comprehend how she’d managed without the girl for so long.   
The whole deed would have left Artemis feeling embarrassed and inferior if she wasn’t being driven out of her mind. Small sounds slipped free that would have left her cheeks flushed red but she could barely comprehend what each sound was. A huff of breath, a moan, a whisper, a gasp? None of it registered under any form of logic.   
But as Artemis lost sense of her surroundings Zoë realized just how bad things had gotten for her patron. How much in need she was and, honestly, it was another testament to Artemis’ strength. There was little that could leave her defeated aside from, well, Zoë.   
Eventually, Artemis stilled but it wasn’t in relief. No, her chest rose and fell in shivering breathes, her eyes were screwed shut, her stomach was tensed, and Zoë’s hand was held captive by strong, pulsing muscles.   
The ordeal lasted nearly an hour and each time the lieutenant pressed a light kiss to the goddess’ neck, her body would respond with renewed energy. Such long periods of peaking were meant for reproduction in the wild, its why some animals remained locked for long hours, but there was no population gain from this making it a gift as much as it was a curse. What’s more, the way god’s worked Zoë could only imagine the sensations tormenting her lover.   
Then, slowly, things calmed. There was an audible sigh, the feeling of a shift in the mattress of the bed as a body relaxed into its surface unhindered, and the pressure upon Zoë’s hand lessened to nothing more than the feeling of light flutters.   
When she was finally able to reclaim what was hers Artemis have a rather dissatisfied sound at the feeling of hollowness left behind. “Sorry love, my fingers are cramping.”  
Two cloudy silver eyes barely able to peer through heavy eyelids greeted the Hesperide and the goddess took Zoë’s hand using her thumbs to work the delicate muscles. “Thank you.”   
“Don’t mention it,” Zoë mused, pressing her lips to Artemis’ brow. The Goddess soon fell asleep for what seemed like the first time in decades, and Zoë loyally collected had into her arms. She never minded these moments. Sure, sometimes it felt a bit like a job, but what could she do? She would never make Artemis suffer like that. Never in her whole life would she deny the girl in her arms some form of relief. Whether she was in the mood or not Zoë loved her enough to not give a damn.   
So, she prepared for the moment when Artemis would wake, the haze of lust briefly fading only to be replaced an hour or so later and the cycle would repeat twice more before she was usually satisfied. Then, Artemis would sleep for hours or days, as if she were recovering from the ordeal only to return as she was.   
Though it was a long evening, and Zoë’s own body ached with fatigue, the two shared a meal and shortly after Artemis was passed out asleep. For three days the goddess just lay there in bed, unmoving, uncaring, and unaware of the amused girl observing her.   
Though Zoë would have liked their time to be spent talking, playing, and messing about she understood this was some necessary part of the process. So, she took to nestling down with her lover when she could and spent as much time relaxing in the pale body’s warmth as she could.   
On the fourth morning, when Artemis finally woke up, she seemed healthier in an instant. The dark circles beneath her eyes were gone, she no longer seemed to be running a fever, and she was entirely more relaxed.   
Nuzzling her face into Zoë’s shoulder she gave a content hum that slowly coaxed the Hesperide awake. “How I love you.”  
“So you’ve finally woken,” Zoë mused, rolling over to face Artemis.   
“How long-“  
“Three days.”   
“Oh, my family will kill me,” Artemis sighed, “I think they intended it to be a quick...fix-so to speak.”   
“I don’t think they’ll be too surprised. You looked absolutely horrid and I say that out of love,” Zoë mused. “You looked like a phantom.”   
“Well, I’m glad I no longer feel like one. Gods, that was the worse handful of weeks in my life. Everything reminded me of you, and once I thought of you I wanted you. It was a cycle that only worsened the more I tried to escape it. Nature may be something I love but there are times I wonder why I love it so much,” Artemis laughed lightly. “Not that I don’t love our time together.”   
“I know,” Zoë promised. Sighing, Artemis took her lover’s hand and pressed her thumbs into the tender muscles once again working them into some form of relaxation. All the while Zoë seemed to melt into Artemis’ side humming happily at the careful massage. “I’ve forgotten you used to do this.”  
“How can I not take care of the person who takes care of me?” Artemis asked in all seriousness. Zoë only smiled and was near to drifting off asleep when a flash of light interrupted them.   
“Apologies,” Hermes blushed, “but father requests you return. You’ve extended your slotted time for...far too long and his patience is being tested. Even though I know it’s not quite your fault he doesn’t completely understand the concept of a recovery process. No different than running a marathon, you know.”   
“Thank you Hermes,” Artemis sighed, giving him a kind smile.  
“Of course,” he nodded, giving a tiny wave to Zoë who studied the snakes upon his scepter with intrigue. “Oh, this is George and Martha. I don’t think you’ve met them.”  
“I don’t think I have,” Zoë mused, “but they are lovely.”   
“I like to think so too,” Hermes beamed, “but they’re always hungry for rats. Such a shame they have a faster metabolism than I do which shouldn’t be possible-“  
“Considering they’re snakes,” Zoë concluded.   
“Yes,” Hermes laughed, “considering they are snakes. Well, I must be off, now, don’t delay Artemis or he’ll have your head.”   
Shielding Zoë’s eyes, lest she forget, Hermes vanished in a flash as bright as the one he appeared in. “You heard him. I just be going.”   
“Take care,” Zoë smiled, kissing Artemis gently. “I don’t believe we will meet so soon, again.”   
“Perhaps not,” Artemis agreed, “bid, as always, I will be thinking of you.”   
“And I you,” Zoë promised.   
Artemis left the quaint little house behind and grudgingly returned home. She found her father with a rather odd expression on his face. She wasn’t sure what it was for but she was quick to apologize for her long disappearance.   
“Athena informed me of the reason why before my tempter got too out of hand,” Zeus sighed, waving away the apology as if it didn’t matter. “Now, we have other things to discuss.”   
“I see,” Artemis nodded. “Is this regarding the meeting?”   
“Not quite, the decision hasn’t been made, but I want to hear your take on things. I want to hear your story,” Zeus decided.   
“My-my story?” Artemis stammered.   
“Yes,” Zeus nodded, “your story with the girl.”  
“Lieutenant,” Artemis corrected.   
“Lieutenant,” Zeus agreed.   
“Alright,” Artemis breathed, “where should I start?”  
“From the beginning.”


	10. Chapter Ten

She didn’t hide anything from her father. Even the more personal details she’d otherwise have kept to herself. Keeping secrets wouldn’t help her case. It wouldn’t bring Zoë back for good and it wouldn’t earn her any trust. Thankfully, Zeus didn’t interrupt and listened intently-a surprisingly rare feat. When Artemis had finished recounting all that she possibly could he remained silent. This silence stretched on for impossibly long. The Goddess’ stomach tightened into a ball of nerves and her throat went dry in seconds. There was no telling how he’d react or what he’d say or think. The possibilities were endless and equally terrifying.   
“This is a lot to process,” Zeus remarked, settling his chin in his hand fingers covering his mouth.   
“You never asked before,” Artemis began, “so you have centuries of adventures to understand.”  
“Indeed,” Zeus nodded slowly. “Well, I thank you for taking so much time to tell me all of this. It won’t be lost on me. The counsel has yet to decide and I’m surprised the discussion is so heated. It seems there’s more to the decision than what meets the eye.”  
“I understand,” Artemis smiled faintly, “and I will be within a call’s distance.”   
“Artemis,” Zeus called as she made her way to leave. “does she remember all of this?”   
“I don’t know,” Artemis shrugged, “but I like to think she remembers what’s important to her. That’s all that matters really. We value different things and that’s okay.”  
“I see,” the king mused. “That’s all.”  
Artemis gave a curt bow and left her father be. She wasn’t sure what his stance on the matter was, but she was almost afraid to ask.   
Wandering through the silent halls as dusk began to fall she became mildly enchanted by the torches decorating the pillars. They always left such a warm glow upon the marble it seemed to be captured within the stone itself.   
“Good evening,” a small voice piped up from up ahead. Artemis glanced down to find Hestia sitting comfortably on the hard floor stroking the fur of a black cat who seemed to be made of embers.  
“Hestia,” Artemis greeted warmly, pausing in her walk to sit across from the other girl. There were times Artemis forgot how much older Hestia was than her because of her young appearance, and that she was the first Olympian. Then, it occurred to Artemis that she’d once taken that form too. It hadn’t been until much later she’d decided she liked being more mature. Not until she’d fallen in love.   
“My brother was gentle?” Hestia asked, as her cat meandered over to the huntress purring all the while.   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, giving the creature a gentle touch. It’s fur radiated a comforting warmth surfacing memories of nights by the fire, warm drinks, comfortable sleep in warm embraces, and more.   
“Good,” Hestia smiled.   
“Is the counsel truly worked up over my plight?” Artemis frowned, letting the cat return to Hestia.   
“You would be surprised how deeply they care of your own affairs,” Hestia cast her eyes upon the floor looking rather solemn. “They have yet to consider your point of view until now. My brother gathered the idea on his own much to my surprise,” mused the other girl.   
“Have you spoken?”   
“I prefer to remain out of it,” Hestia looked apologetically at Artemis. “It’s not that I don’t wish to fight for you, but why should I decide who your family is? I don’t think any of us have the right. You have made your home like each of us. I think, more than anything, many of my siblings are concerned about the foolishness of other gods should a precedent be set. How many people will ask for temporary lovers to become residents here? How many will demand favors that stretch the limits of maintain order? It goes on and on in the realm of possibility. Then, there are others who are jealous.”  
“Jealous?” Artemis arched a brow.   
“That you have something that’s lasted the trials of time. Few can be so lucky. Most are brave in leaving their companions, and though they long for them understand the need for mortals to carry on their own lives. Like my brothers, they still hold affections for their past lovers, but tragedy has taken them. Poseidon was lucky that was not the case with Sally.”   
“Doesn’t he like Paul?” Artemis questioned.   
“Oh, Poseidon adores the man. He finds him entertaining, friendly, a gentleman to say the least, but there will always be a part of him that wishes he could have the domestic life that Paul does,” Hestia explained.” And then there are gods who have nothing more than temporary fixations. They can’t fathom longing for an eternity over one individual met by chance. They don’t understand what you have.”   
“I...I never considered that as being a motivation,” Artemis admitted, feeling a bit foolish.  
“It’s alright,” Hestia assured, “I only know as much as I do because I observe.”  
“The best hunters are ones with a careful gaze,” Artemis noted with a slight gleam in her eyes.   
“I think I’d find your band of sisters rather calming, but I must watch after Olympus. Otherwise, it will not stand more than a few weeks,” Hestia let the small creature clamber onto her shoulder and nestle against her neck.   
“I don’t think I’ve been introduced to your friend before,”Artemis gestured towards the cat, shifting the topic of discussion to something less heavy.  
“Ah,” Hestia smiled, “this is my dearest follower, Phoebe.”  
“I had a close companion with the same name, but I’m assuming yours is far gentler than mine,” Artemis laughed. Phoebe had always been rough, tough, and very much a go getter. There was little that could tame her temper or her spirit.  
“Yes,” Hestia nodded, sharing the laugh. “She was not part of my other followers. No one knows her and perhaps that’s for the best.”  
“What’s her story?” Artemis asked, her curiosity captured.   
“She was part of Greece in its teenage years, so to speak, and she was kind, warm, and welcoming. Her hospitality was beyond any. She tended a single fire in her home every day. Went out early to cut the wood and carried it miles only to burn it. Every day that fire burned. Only at night did it cease for fear of her small home burning to the ground,” Hestia spoke as if she were recalling the moment it was happening. “Even in sweltering summer she kept the blaze going. People laughed, ridiculed her, and more, but the smoke from the flames was a beacon. It guided people to her home, lost travelers, refugees, abandoned children, lost animals, injured warriors, and more. Each was met with open arms and an open door.”   
“Brave for a lone woman,” Artemis noted with respect.   
“Each left and forgot of her. She was a memory never rekindled,” Hestia looked sadly at the slumbering animal. “It was unfair. She died when her hospitality was taken advantage of. She was killed and robbed by a disturbed man.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Artemis frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for the sleeping cat. “How did you bring her here?”  
“There was little protest. They saw her as no threat, no danger, no one really. My entire family knew nothing of her, so what could they hold against her? She helps me tend the grounds and keeps the flames alight. She rarely comes around. Always an independent one but there are times she craves company as I do and she always finds her way back. It keeps the nights shorter and less lonely.”   
“How is my situation different?” Artemis asked hesitantly.  
“My affections aren’t quite the same, though she is dear to me,” Hestia explained, “and I have a special place for her. Phoebe never knew me directly, she was mortal, mild mannered, didn’t keep her human form here, and has no direct ties to myself other than the odd little bond we’ve built.”   
“I see,” Artemis noted. It seemed to her they were similar and entirely different in their situations. Zoë was someone she had always known it seemed, the daughter of a Titan, passionate, opinionated, and would retain her identity if allowed. “I’m honored to have met Phoebe. I suppose I haven’t simply because I never linger here more than necessary.”   
“All is forgiven,” Hestia chuckled. “She seems to have taken an interest in you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stopped by every now and then to say hello or sleep on your bed while you’re away. To keep it warm of course.”   
“Of course,” Artemis laughed. “Well, I think I have kept you awake long enough”.   
“None sense,” Hestia waved aside the remark. “It’s been far too long since I have gotten a chance to see you. And it’s good to see you, even if you are tired.”  
“I’m actually quite well rested.”  
“Physically...perhaps,” Hestia looked at Artemis knowingly, “but you are tired. I can see you.”  
“You can?”  
“I’ve always been able to see you,” Hestia tilted her head slightly, “the unseen know how to notice people that don’t want to be seen.”   
“Unwanted attention seems to be my most persistent enemy,” Artemis agreed.   
“I don’t think it will ever go away. You’ve always attracted attention no matter how hard you tried not to. I know that’s why you enjoy the mortal world so much more than your life here. But you must understand you and Apollo were an anomaly. Twins, well, it hadn’t happened before. Not to mention you were brought to Olympus aged a handful of years already. You had time with your mother that none of us have. There is a lot that you have experienced that we have not. Perhaps even a bit of jealousy lies there amongst our family,” Hestia pressed her lips in a thin line.   
“Are you? Jealous, I mean,” Artemis worried.   
“No,” Hestia shook her head, “anyone who is jealous of you has neglected to understand your suffering. You had to leave your mother behind, you will always have attachments to your brother, his pain is your pain, and you can’t escape the memories time has placed within you.”  
“My father says memory is the worst form of torture.”  
“He is right,” Hestia nodded. “Now, I must apologize for turning our conversation so grim. It wasn’t my intention go do so.”   
“It’s alright,” Artemis promised, “you have helped me understand the others more. I thank you for that.”  
“Of course,” Hestia smiled, watching Artemis stand and dust her hands upon her clothes. “Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight,” Artemis bid Hestia farewell and returned to her chambers with a head full of knew thoughts.   
Perhaps there were reasons to her families actions, concerns, and beliefs, but when did those reasons overstep their realm of concern? The fact that her life was under such scrutiny, the fact that her choices were being ridiculed, and the fact that her feelings were being explained-well, it hurt. She felt uncomfortable, naked, and frankly small. No one else had ever been picked apart by so many eyes or so many words.   
“Why me? Why must it be me that holds this burden?” Artemis sighed, laying on her bed with her arms tucked behind her head staring up at the changing night sky of her ceiling. “What have I done?”  
“You’re too human,” Came the drawl of a reply no different than the whisper of curtains in a breeze.   
“Geras,” Artemis frowned.  
“Don’t sound so sad,” He chuckled as if his lungs could barely push the air out.   
“What do you want?” Artemis asked. The god of old age was one she didn’t like to see often. Not because he was rude or cruel but because he made her horribly uncomfortable. Geras existed as if he were on the very brink of death itself. That horrifying moment of in between.   
His hair was thin, string like, and white. His eyes looked like frozen glass clear but murky all at once. His bones protruded at the joints against taut skin and his mouth was like a black home with loose lips about it. His voice came like a breeze that encircled you and left you feeling naked in return. Like it somehow felt every inch of you searching for a way to penetrate and steal your youth.   
“I’m here to provide wisdom,” Geras remarked, ending his words with a raspy wet cough.   
“That is Athena’s job,” Artemis countered.   
“She can’t provide what I know,” Geras assured. “That your burden is one you alone can handle. Should it fall upon the shoulders of another they would die. No different than those with cancer compared to an amputee. You are given what you can bear no matter how horrific it may seem. No more and no less.“   
“What does that have to do with me being too human?” The goddess demanded, finding it difficult not to search for the corpse looking in the shadows.   
“Only humans bear burdens,” Geras wheezed, “us gods merely supply them. Sometimes, we may give them to one another but they will be passed on. You, however, keep yours. You don’t know how to let go.”   
“Are you suggesting I give up? That I forget about having something I love?” Artemis asked.   
“No,” Geras assured weakly, “it means you have every right to fight. Those who have held their burdens deserve to fight for joy. Those who brush them aside deserve nothing in return. You must suffer to earn anything in life. It is cruel and it is twisted but it makes the moments we wait for seem like heaven. It is why old age is both a curse and a gift. Humans have fought hard for their rest, and enduring the final years is almost excruciating, but it makes the gentle sleep all the more rewarding.”   
“You speak poetically for someone who has seemingly never held a burden,” Artemis teased, “lest your arms give way.”   
Geras laughed faintly, “perhaps that is my very burden. I shall never be strong enough to carry one.”   
A light breeze wafted through the room signaling Geras’ departure. Left behind was the faintest scent that accompanied the elderly. Despite the grim discussion Artemis felt her confidence grow. She was strong, she’d endured burdens before, she’d held the sky, she’d faced death, and more. She could do this. She would come out the other side okay and if it meant waging war so be it. She would have Zoë back one way or another.


	11. Chapter Eleven

“We have to ask ourselves just who exactly we’re inviting into our family,” Hephaestus mused, stroking his beard. “We know little of this individual’s past. If we ask Artemis she will be biased, and even then I doubt she knows everything.”   
“How exactly do you suppose we do that?” Hermes arched a brow.   
“We request the help of Mnemosyne,” Athena concluded. “She may be able to extract Zoë’s memories.”   
“Good luck getting that done,” Apollo snorted, “if you think my sister will permit such an action you’d be surprisingly foolish.”   
“I have ways of reasoning,” Athena assured.   
— — —  
“I won’t allow it,” Artemis shook her head fiercely, collecting stray arrows from her huntresses’ temporary practice range.   
“Artemis please,” Athena pleaded, “we’re trying to help you.”   
“That is her private business and her business alone. I won’t condone the act. You must go directly to Zoë and ask. It’s her mind you want to rummage through not my own,” Artemis glowered, nearly snapping a few of the arrows in her white knuckled fists.   
“She won’t come willingly,” Athena worried.  
“Then figure it out. I won’t have you ask my permission to violate her again. Is that understood?”   
“Artemis, I’m not here to be a villain. I’m here because I thought you’d at least be more receptive with me. It’s a reasonable idea by Hephaestus and it might give you a shot at getting what you wanted. I never said I condoned doing it against her will or yours. Why else would I be here?” Athena frowned, finding it hard not to take offense by her sister’s tone.   
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t snap at you,” Artemis sighed. “I’m just...tired of this. It’s been nearly a month and this debate is still going on. A month since Geras visited and nothing has happened. Why is it so hard? What did she do to make them hate her?”   
“She took you away from us,” Athena explained, “you’ve been told time and time again you’re too human. Who do you think made you that way?”   
“Yes, well, she’ll be brining me back won’t she? If she can stay?” Artemis countered.   
“The others don’t see it that way, but I agree.” Athena paused, tucked a strand of loose hair back into the circlet on her sister’s head before vanishing with little more than a brief goodbye.   
Returning to Olympus, Athena relayed what Artemis had said. With begrudging permission she was sent to the Underworld. After a bit of questioning she was directed to the proper home.   
As expected, Zoë answered, and her expression of greeting turned to one of worry. “Is Artemis in trouble?”   
“No,” Athena shook her head, reminded once more how beautiful the Hesperide was. “But the counsel has a request. I asked Artemis and she insisted I talk to you.”   
“Alright,” Zoë nodded, stepping aside and permitting the goddess of wisdom entrance into her home. “What’s so dire that they send someone like yourself all the way down here? Not that it isn’t nice to see a familiar and friendly face. I hope Artemis told you hello for me before my last departure.”   
“She did,” Athena smiled, “thank you for that. But...on a more serious note the proposition I spoke of...”  
Zoë listened closely as Athena described the counsel’s discussion. She gave no indication of negative or positive feelings and instead sat quietly pondering the idea.   
Then, at last, Zoë broke her silence, “I’ll do it. But...but only if Artemis is there. I don’t trust them-the others. Is that wrong of me?”   
“No,” Athena assured, “you’re in foreign territory and I understand there are those that harbor no love for you. I would offer my protection but I must do my best to remain neutral in this case. I must separate emotion and logic lest nothing be decided.”   
“Thank you,” Zoë sighed, relaxing ever so slightly.   
“Of course. From one sister to another,” Athena smiled, standing and setting a hand upon the Hesperide’s shoulder.   
Once back on Olympus Hermes dashed from the room to collect Artemis while Hades melted into the shadows in search of Mnemosyne. When the titaness arrived there was a clear shift in the room. Though the woman had not harmed any of the Gods directly they all understood her power and the blood that ran through her veins.   
Artemis was last to arrive. She was quick to spot her lieutenant shifting awkwardly beneath the eyes of the Gods. Part of Artemis wanted to run to her and assure her she shouldn’t worry, but the other part of her knew she couldn’t appear so weak. If she reacted so quickly at the mere sight of Zoë the others would think she’d lost her mind and would for decades after if the Hesperide resided on Olympus.   
So, with some restraint, Artemis took her place in a throne too cold compared to the others. Silence pressed into the tightest crevices of the room as a dark skinned hand reached out touching ever so gently upon Zoë’s forehead. The braziers died about the room bathing it in shadow as Mnemosyne reflected the images of Zoë’s mind upon the dark canvas of the throne room.   
A foggy scene grew vivid over time and each god was faced with a young looking nymph clutching a slim infant to her chest.   
“You must take her where it’s safe. My home is changing as humans migrate. The coast isn’t safe for her,” the nymph pleaded. Her voice sounded impossibly like Zoë’s without the sharp clip inherited by Atlas.   
“I cannot harbor another child on the mountain. My brethren are impatient as it is. She’s not of pure blood,” Atlas argued, his low voice catching baby Zoë’s attention. Her head- unsteady as it was- lifted to look expectantly at her mother.   
“It’s okay,” the woman soothed, as Zoë wriggled in her grip. “Please. You can’t abandon her. Not because she’s of mixed blood. That’s not her fault. She had no choice. She’s...she’s strong I swear it. She’d be of use if you raised her to be.”  
“You can’t guarantee that,” Atlas grumbled, shaking his head. “Now I won’t hear any more of this.”  
The Titan turned his back upon the woman and her now weeping baby. Atlas was as calloused as Artemis knew him. “Wait! What if...what if I give you the land of my home? I know your plans. I know what your brethren have begun plotting against your father. You’ll need a safe place to reside. It can be yours.”  
“And where would you go?”  
“I...” The woman paused, swallowing tightly. It was no secret that when nymphs lost their homes they would fade and die. If she gave up her homeland the last thing she’d have done was make a deal with the devil. “I’ll find somewhere. Just, take her. Please, I want her to be safe. I can’t bear if-“  
“Fine,” Atlas turned abruptly and collected the crying infant. “But if I raise her as you wish you are not to see her.”   
“I assure you,” the woman replied though her voice broke, “that won’t be a problem.”  
“Good,” Atlas nodded. The image faded as the woman wiped at the tears spilling from her eyes and Zoë looked frantically about at the terrifying world around her. She had almost nothing except what she was wearing and what her mother had left behind long ago with Atlas.   
What soon replaced the tragic goodbye was young Zoë no older than seven holding an infant like her mother had. The child was pale with cinnamon colored hair and wide brown eyes.   
“What do you mean you don’t like her?” Zoë demanded, staring intently at her sisters.   
“She’s soft. Too sensitive.” The eldest replied.   
“She’s a baby!” Zoë glowered, “How else do you expect her to react to all of this? She’s afraid! I-I remember...I was afraid too.”  
“Fine, but she’s your responsibility. I won’t meddle in Father’s affairs. I learned my lesson eons ago.”   
“I don’t care. I’m not abandoning her because father won’t look after another one of his bastard children,” Zoë hissed, running a small hand through the little bit of hair the baby had. Her sisters collectively turned away leaving Zoë and the infant in silence. “I don’t suppose you have a name?”   
No reply.   
“I’ll call you...Calypso. That sounds nice don’t you think? Fitting for someone like you,” Zoë decided, smiling faintly. The infant only yawned and nestled it’s small and delicate face against her shoulder.   
For some time after that memory a flood of them followed centering on young Calypso as if Zoë’s baby sister was the essence of her life. From Calypso’s first steps, first words, first somersault, and more-Zoë was there.   
Then, suddenly, it seemed that Atlas began to intervene. He seemed to find the beauty of his youngest child amusing. How she could woo some of the cup bearing boys with ease. It was a tool she didn’t know she had. He intended to use it even if it meant giving her false affection.   
Then, things changed. The light grew dark and the sounds of battle raged in the distance. Zoë climbed the nearest tree as rain pounded down upon their home.   
“What are you doing? Get down here and find shelter!” A sister shrieked.   
“No!” Zoë protested. “Can’t you see something is happening? Something...strange. Like nothing we’ve ever seen before. Like nothing we’ll ever see again. It’s like the world itself is at war. Don’t you want I see it? To understand it?”  
“Absolutely not!” Came a cry of protest. Then, a rustling of leaves revealed Calypso joining her sister amidst the storm.   
“What’s happening?” Calypso asked, fear dripping into her voice.   
“I’m not entirely sure,” Zoë admitted, but I think it’s why father left. He’s away on business. Which means...”  
“We can’t sneak off exploring, Zoë. Not when it’s this dangerous,” Calypso worried, wiping strands of wet hair from her eyes. “We could get into trouble.”   
“But this is the moment we’ve waited for! We can get out of this place while he’s not looking. Just us. Aren’t you a little curious?” Zoë questioned, but even as she studied her sister’s face it was clear Calypso was too afraid to follow their long planned dream. “I-I see. Well, if you won’t go I will. I’ll tell you everything when I get back. In the mean time you can stay here. Where it’s safe and where the others can look after you.”   
“Zoë!” Calypso protested, as her sister began clambering back down the tree. “You’ll be in danger!”  
It was no use. The prospect of freedom had smitten the young Hesperide and she wouldn’t listen to reason. Calypso was left in the shivering tree soaked to the bone.   
The rain faded to reveal green grass and the same tree in full bloom. Time had passed. How much, Artemis didn’t know, but Zoë came bounding over a hill looking as young as ever. She had a small pack slung over a shoulder and a bright smile on her face.   
“So you’re back?” One of her sister’s asked, emerging from behind a tree.   
“Yes,” Zoë nodded, “and you wouldn’t believe all that’s out there. It’s incredible, really. I have so much to tell all of you. Where is everyone?”   
“The others are in the cave. But you won’t find everyone.”   
“What do you mean?” Zoë frowned, adjusting her hold in the bag.   
“Calypso is no longer with us.”  
“What?” Zoë’s expression looked like that of a wounded animal. “What happened to her? Is she alright? Where is she?”   
“The war father fought while you were gone was lost. Those gods took her as a prisoner and sent her all on her lonesome to an island,” explained the sister.  
“Then we must retrieve her and bring her home. How long has she been by herself?” Zoë worried, anxiously setting aside her bag.   
“Months. No one can find her. If you go looking for her she’ll always remain out of reach. That’s her curse. She can never leave, and people will wash upon the shores of the island. She’ll take care of them which is her way-the way you taught her-and she’ll grow attached. They will leave and the cycle will continue for eternity,” The Hesperide spoke slowly and grimly. “An eternal broken heart.”  
“No, that’s not true. No one’s that cruel! What-What did she do to deserve this?” Zoë demanded, and Artemis could see the faint prickling of tears in her shattered eyes.   
“She stood my father’s side. He used her to gather information. It’s amazing what a pretty girl can accomplish,” Her sister shrugged.   
“And you let him? You let him and you knew all along what he was doing?” Zoë’s breathes came in pained gasps and it seemed like she was on the verge of collapsing. “How could you? She’s your sister!”  
“She was your responsibility and you failed her. The only thing she’s ever truly loved is you, and she will never find you. She will never leave that island.”  
“So you damned her as those gods did?” Zoë spat.  
“Careful, I’m getting the impression your loyalties aren’t as they were.”   
“I have no loyalty to those who would abandon their families!”   
Each figure vanished into smoke and the Hesperide sister was replaced with a young dragon. It laid coiled about the trunk of a tree with its eyes lazily shut as Zoë ran a hand down its scales. “Ladon, what am I to do? This place...it’s nothing but misery.”   
A faint rumble emanated from the dragon’s chest as wisps of smoke floated up through its nostrils.   
“At least I have you. You alone make things less painful,” Zoë sighed, resting her head upon Ladon’s. “I only wish Calypso could see you. She always dreamed of having a pet. I don’t think she ever pictured a dragon but...she’d love you anyways.”  
Ladon yawned, flashing his sharp teeth in the light and causing Zoë to smile ever so slightly. “Silly dragon.”   
Night fell over the scene, and Ladon seemed to have grown twice in size. There was a frantic commotion as Zoë tore into the clearing startling the beast awake. Behind her stumbled a young, sturdy boy that sent Ladon into defense posture.   
“Ladon, no!” Zoë protested, stepping in front of the dragon. “It’s me. Zoë. It’s okay. It’s okay.”   
Ladon snorted, stamping a foot in protest. He eyed Hercules with care as the young man collected an apple from a bowed branch.   
“Got it!”  
“Alright, now go, I’ll follow shortly.”  
“You’re not saying goodbye to the dragon are you?”   
“Just go!” Zoë hissed, looking scary enough to send Hercules on his way. With the boy gone, she turned back to the beast. “Ladon, you know I can’t stay. Not when my sister’s find out about this.”   
Ladon huffed, but the sound turned into a sharp whine like that of an injured dog.   
“I know,” Zoë sniffled, “I’ll miss you too. But you have to stay. This is your place and you’ll be safe here. Heroes won’t smite you like they do dragons in the real world. I’ll be okay and my sister’s will look after you.”   
Two sharp dragon eyes squinted as if Ladon were crying, but no tears came.   
“I’ll come back one day. Promise you’ll remember me?” Zoë pleaded, hugging Ladon about the neck. “Promise?”   
“The tree!” A sharp voice interrupted the goodbye. Ladon took one look at Zoë then the sister that had stumbled upon them. He rose to his full height and blocked the path to Zoë.   
“Thank you,” Zoë smiled, earning a sad roar as she took off in pursuit of the hero that had vanished into the tree line.   
The secret exchange between Hesperide and hero took place before a series of new memories fired in quick succession. The banishment, the first night alone in the mortal world, the lonely years of wandering, the brief encounter with an injured hawk, the hawk turning out to be more than a simple bird, and the peculiar girl that pestered her with questions.   
It was strange for Artemis to see herself through someone else’s eyes. She was young, naive, enthusiastic, and foolish. Everything she no longer was. How time changed things she would never truly understand.   
“The rest you know,” Mnemosyne sighed, as the fires returned to their normal glow and the images vanished completely.   
A thin sheen of sweat glistened over Zoë’s skin and she had paled quite drastically. Apollo moved without asking permission, crossed the room to pause in front of Zoë, and though Artemis couldn’t understand their exchange she knew Apollo was making sure Zoë was alright.   
“Well,” Zeus shifted in his throne, I believe that answers your question Hephaestus.   
“Yes,” the forge god nodded. “It does.”  
“Then, Artemis you are dismissed for the time being. Apollo, take her to someplace she can recover. The last thing I want is someone throwing up in my throne room,” Zeus smiled but his remarks were jest and Artemis felt herself relax. She left silently, and returned to her camp where the others had waited impatiently.   
“This changes things,” Hephaestus noted.  
“How?” Dionysus demanded.   
“Her character is impeccable. She has nothing but loyalty to those she cares about,” the forge god explained.   
“She’s also a traitor,” Ares argued.   
“Only...only out of love,” Aphrodite sighed, obviously conflicted in agreeing both with Hephaestus and in favor of the Hesperide she despised.   
“Let’s not forget who she was raised by. The fact that Zoë managed to find her own identity and work against such a man is incredible. Her life was a tragic one. The loss of a mother who she most likely would have been in better hands with, the loss of a sister, a family, a betrayal of her own, and more. She should have been angry with us. She never was,” Hermes sighed, his expression one of admiration. “Even with all we are responsible for she can stand in this room and not point fingers or demand us to compensate for her losses. Heroes rarely have that restraint or composure.”   
“We can’t base this solely off of the fact that this child’s behavior is admirable,” Demeter frowned.   
“If I may speak,” a small voice filled the chamber despite its softness.   
“Go on, sister,” Zeus looked fondly at Hestia.   
“I would remain out of such a thing, and I have for some time, but I find it odd that we must debate such s topic. Why do we decide the family Artemis has? She found it on her own, made it as she desired, and the fact that we may take it away is cruel,” Hestia shook her head in dismay. “Is it not too different from my having Phoebe here? A dear friend? She’s not problematic, offensive, under foot, or troublesome.”   
“She’s a cat!” Ares bellowed.  
Hestia’s she’s smarted and the war god shrank back in his throne. “She is not a cat. She’s worth more than that, nephew.”   
“I see your point,” Hera nodded. “we are being unjustly biased.”  
“So what is to be done? I’m getting sick of this repetition,” Hades groaned, running his temples.  
“A decision is to be made. We’ve exhausted all variable. There’s nothing else to do,” Zeus decided. “Let us begin lest we waste away for eternity here.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know in the flashbacks Zoë would use Thee and Thou and Thy but to keep it simple I chose not to. I didn’t want to damage the potential of the work.

“What is it this time?” Artemis sighed, spotting her sister close to the tree line. Abandoning her supervision of the girls, she sulked off to where Athena stood waiting. “It’s been a handful of hours. What else can I possibly be disturbed for?”   
“They want to access her memories again,” Athena chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “They want everything. Everything up until her death.”   
“Absolutely not,” Artemis’ eyes hardened like steel. “They’ve had their fun. I’ve played into this game long enough. They know what they need to know. I’m not submitting her to such a thing again. You saw how taxing it was!”  
“You’re one vote away,” Athena blurted. “I’m not-supposed to tell you that but you’re so close.”  
“And? What if I allow this but nothing happens? I’d like to keep some of my dignity and hers amongst all of you,” The goddess’ lip curled like that of a wolve’s. “I’m not reliving my mistakes. I have too many times before, and I won’t be made a fool in front of everyone. You can tell them I want no more part in this game and if they touch her I will tear them apart.”   
“It doesn’t have to be her,” Athena sighed, “if you offer you could go instead. It would be less dangerous.”   
“I don’t want anyone in my head. I don’t want my memories picked apart by unwanted eyes. How would you feel if people flayed you open like a fish and inspected every facet of your being?” Artemis arched a brow.   
“Then tell father yourself,” Athena stared intently at the forest floor. “I’m not playing messenger anymore.”   
“I’m sorry he’s pawned you,” Artemis tilted her head ever so slightly, “you don’t deserve my anger. But-“  
“It’s easier because I’m not father. It’s safer,” Athena concluded with a small smile. “I know.”  
“Don’t doubt I love you,” Artemis insisted, “my wrath is never for you. Now, where is father to be exact?”   
“You can find him in his chamber. Be careful,” Athena warned, but Artemis had already vanished.   
— — —  
“I see Athena convinced you-“ Zeus paused as he studied the infuriated expression upon his daughter’s face.   
“You let this go. Right now, you understand me? I don’t want this judgment-this jury! Keep her. If she belongs in the underworld then so be it. Bring her there yourself damn it and don’t you ever give me the notion of false hope again!” Artemis’ fists were clenched hard enough to draw blood upon her palms. Above, the sky darkened and the moon’s pale silhouette cloaked in sunlight grew impossibly intense.   
“False hope?” Zeus scoffed, “You’re nearly there! I’m sure Athena told you. You simply have to tell the others-show them-all you showed me.”   
“I showed you because you’re my father! That was meant to be an intimate and personal exchange that you’re now demanding I publicize?” The goddess’ arms flew about as she spoke and the moon only grew in its visibility. “I won’t be made a spectacle and I won’t have my pride stripped away because of this indecision. Because no one will understand what I have lost. They are done tormenting me. They are done tormenting Zoë. I would rather live each day as if I were dying than betray what’s rightfully ours and no one else’s.”   
“What will it take for you to understand this is your one chance?” Zeus bellowed. “What do I have to give you to satisfy this rage?”   
“No one can replace all I’ve lost. Not now or ever. You can give me nothing,” Artemis stared intently at stormy eyes which reflected her own visage, “that will satisfy me. Only rest can...and I will never have rest.”  
“You doubt me,” Zeus shook his head, “do not forget what I once created that you desired.”   
“You did nothing but prove you would rather someone who hates you receive your good graces over someone who loves you. Even with such a gift you won no favor in Thalia’s heart. And you denied me the same gift you gave her long ago only so I’d lose it,” Artemis’ rage began to dissipate and her vision became dotted with tears. “I know how your promises work. There’s a catch in every one of them. I’m not easily fooled anymore. I’ve learned because a girl must always learn when men like you insist on teaching cruel lessons.”   
“You will regret giving up,” Zeus spoke solemnly, a distant look in his eyes. “You will never forget the day you let your pride interrupt your one chance to have what you’ve always wanted.”   
“I want a family!” Artemis yelled, “one that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t ridicule, that doesn’t backstab, that doesn’t treat people like they’re part of a game. That’s what I want. And unless you can give me that I won’t set foot into that throne room.”  
“I will make sure no one is out of line. Anyone who ridicules, belittles, or demeans you for your past will face punishment for the offense. If you’re worried about the others’ reactions I will ensure no wrath fall upon you,” Zeus promised.   
“Why do you even care so much?”   
“Because I ruined your mother with my decisions long ago and I am not about to make the same mistake twice. You’re my daughter. I’m not ruining your future. So, I’m giving you this chance,” Zeus set his jaw in determination and for the first time in as long as she could remember Artemis saw love in them. He was sincere in every way possible but it did not rid her of her fear.   
“I don’t want them to know me more than I know myself,” she whispered.   
“They won’t. They only see the surface of the memories Mnemosyne selects. They do not know the context within them. Even with Zoë’s memories I barely understood what was happening. These memories are truest to you because they are yours. People may see those same memories but that doesn’t mean they belong to them.” Large hands settled gently upon thin shoulders in a grounding gesture Artemis didn’t know she needed.   
“But you will understand them because I have told you,” she worried, “you will know me more than myself. It’s easier to study someone when you haven’t walked through those experiences beside them. Retrospect makes anything understandable.”  
“Then it‘s in your favor that I know your story more than the others because I am King,” Zeus smirked, “and what the king says goes.”   
— — —  
“They want me to show the rest of our memories,” Artemis explained, perching on the edge of the bed Zoë rested in. Apollo said the Hesperide’s recovery would be finished with a good long sleep as her fatigue was more an emotional strain than a physical one. But Zoë had refused to sleep until she knew Artemis was well. Thankfully, that allowed Artemis to explain what she had set out to do.   
“Are you asking for permission?” Zoë asked faintly, sitting up with care.   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, “because I would never want to expose facets of yourself you want to remain hidden. Things that should only be between us. If I ever-I would-“  
“It’s okay,” Zoë assured, giving the goddess’ hand a squeeze. “I know you wouldn’t. Don’t be so harsh with yourself.”   
“I just,” Artemis sucked in a shaky breath, “I didn’t know loving you would be this hard.”   
“I’m a Titan’s child. My life was destined to be difficult,” Zoë laughed, wiping a stray tear from Artemis’ face. “Love is a hard thing to manage. Even by the best of us.”  
“Indeed,” Artemis nodded. The goddess paused as if she wanted to say more before thinking better of it. “I should go. They’ll be irritated I kept them waiting so long.”   
“Artemis,” Zoë caught her patron’s hand before she could leave, “if this doesn’t work...don’t blame yourself. Do you understand? This isn’t your fault, okay? We tried. That’s better than nothing.”  
“I know,” Artemis nodded, kissing her lieutenant upon the brow. “Now rest. If anything perhaps this will feel like nothing more than a bad dream.”   
— — —  
Standing in front of Mnemosyne was frightening. The woman looked gentle, but in her eyes there was a pensive knowledge. She knew all that had never been spoken. Knew every thought and recollection ever collected by those dark, soft hands.   
With a shaky breath, Artemis closed her eyes allowing a single hand to reach out and rest upon her head. The sensation that followed was no different than getting the wind knocked out of oneself. One moment she was capable of breathing and the next it seemed Artemis would suffocate. Just before she began to panic, forgetting as most immortals do, that she could survive without oxygen. A burst of color unfolded.   
Shades of pigment morphed into a blend of shapes, shadows, and light. Then, as quickly as the color appeared, it flooded the pale outlines of a scene.   
To Artemis it was no different than watching a play as the image began to move replaying the moment she and Zoë met.   
She was surprised by how young they both looked. Sure, immortality prevented aging but it seemed they were both impossibly naive. The idea broke Artemis’ heart. What had happened that changed them so?   
The answer came with the progression of a lifetime that flickered before her like that of a movie screen. Each memory was recollected in perfect clarity and the emotions that played were reflected by the ache in Artemis’ chest. It was all so familiar and so foreign.   
But then, Artemis found herself paying closer attention to a select few recollections. Things she wished she’d noticed before. Things she should have and didn’t. The events took place in a series of three weeks before she left the upstart hero Percy Jackson with her hunters.   
The first was that of a warm evening spent messing about with the girls. They’d managed to rig up a crude slingshot and spent the evening firing objects into the air for Artemis to shoot. She’d obliged happily, and even bothered to show off a little.   
Shooting through an old boot, a full blown watermelon, a small container of stagnant river water, and more. It was purely fun and games but there was one person not participating that very well should have. Zoë sat upon an upturned tree stump looking rather pale beneath the fire light.   
After a few more loosened shots, Artemis called a temporary pause in the game allowing them to collect more odds and ends for her to demolish at the expense of their amusement. With the huntresses thoroughly distracted, Artemis crossed the camp to sit cross legged upon the forest floor in front of Zoë.   
“You’re pale,” Artemis noted, with a tilt of the head.  
“I have a headache, that’s all,” Zoë insisted.   
“Have you had much to eat or drink?” Artemis asked gently.   
“The thought of either makes me nauseous.”   
“Perhaps you’re ill. The last time we were here the pollen was brutal on your senses,” Artemis mused. “Well, you must eat and drink something even if you don’t wish to. Otherwise you’ll be worse for wear tomorrow and that’ll only make things worse.” “Alright,” Zoë sighed, seeming very unenthused about the idea.   
“Then get some rest,” Artemis insisted. “I won’t be much longer out here. If you feel worse don’t hesitate to find me. You may be under my blessing but it doesn’t completely protect the immune system.”  
She’d watched Zoë briefly eat something from the corner of her eye before returning to the game she foolishly enjoyed.   
As an arrow broke through an ash covered log a second memory blossomed from the raining black powder. A group of girls trudged slowly up a snow covered mountain top. Their frames were swamped with the bulky shapes of camping gear. With each step the snow deepened until it rose up to their knees making progress slow. Artemis pressed on at the front having an easier time seeing through the snowfall than the others. Most wore special glasses to protect their eyes from refracted light that could leave them blind.  
Pausing, Artemis did a head count like that of a mother counting her children. She came up one short for a brief moment before spotting an unlikely person trailing behind.   
“Phoebe, keep up with the tracks, I’m double checking my head count,” Artemis instructed, clambering carefully down the steep mountain face to draw up beside Zoë. “Is it your cold still?”   
“Just tired. Limbs feel heavy,” Zoë breathed, but she still looked impossibly pale.   
“It’s been nearly a week I would have thought your cold had gone,” Artemis worried, taking some of the heavier gear despite Zoë’s protests. “Maybe the traveling is wearing down your immune system.”   
“I don’t know,” Zoë admitted, “but I am frustrated by it. I don’t enjoy being a burden.”   
“You’re no burden,” Artemis assured, “let’s not forget Emery is allergic to peanuts and had a massive allergy attack two years ago. She was bed ridden for quite some time. Never once was she a burden. Things happen. We can’t always prevent them.”   
“Well, she ought to have known peanuts were in snickers,” Zoë frowned.   
“Candy is different where she’s from,” Artemis mused, “now, chin up. We can rest at the top unless you need to sooner. Just tell me. No hero work, understood? We’re only climbing. Self sacrifice isn’t necessary.”   
The imagery faded with the melting of snow. A mountainside picture was replaced by the warm atmosphere of a tent. Artemis sat inspecting some maps while Zoë worked delicately with an arrow shaft.   
“You’ve been irritated as of late,” Artemis noted, “is it something one of us did?”  
“No,” Zoë assured, “I just find certain things to be much more annoying than usual. If anything it’s because the stakes of this stirring are rising. What with the prophecy and the boy. Anything is possible. It’s hard not to find irritation in small things like untied boots. If someone trips who knows what will happen these days? I miss when things were mildly predictable.”  
“That’s quite dramatic,” Artemis mused, glancing over at the concentrated Hesperide. “If you keep frowning like that you’ll have another headache.”  
“I’ll shove my head in some snow until it goes numb,” Zoë replied curtly, earning a laugh from the goddess.   
“Yes, I’m sure that’s an approved form of medicine.”   
“That reminds me,” Zoë sighed, adjusting her grip on the thin knife, “I’ve had trouble sleeping and I think it’s because of that.”   
She gesture vaguely to a plant growing in the corner.   
“Harold?” Artemis asked, arching a brow. “He’s harmless.”  
“He’s a mint plant and his smell is potent,” Zoë accused, looking haughtily at the plant.   
“Well, I’ll tell him to behave himself,” Artemis snickered. “Harold, you must keep your scent in check or I’ll have to place you outside.”   
“Don’t patronize me,” Zoë huffed.   
“I am your patron,” Artemis countered earning the tiniest of smiles from Zoë.   
Then, as quickly as the memories came they passed, and all Artemis could do was chastise herself. She’d been so foolish. She should have know what those symptoms meant. Should have known they were early signs of pregnancy. The irritation, headaches, fatigue, overwhelming of the senses, and trouble sleeping. It had been so obvious but she’d never even considered it.   
The goddess’ train of thought only snapped when she recognized what was about to unfold. They were atop the mountain of Atlas’ domain. The demigods had stormed the temple in a flurry of weapons and powers. But try as she might, Artemis couldn’t avoid witnessing Zoë’s death. It felt like the first time all over again and she wanted desperately to stop it from happening.   
The moment was palpable even if it had happened years ago. It was too vivid, too vivid for her liking, and it hurt. It hurt impossibly bad. Especially because she knew now what she hadn’t before. She wasn’t losing one person but two. One she knew and one she didn’t. One she’d get back and one she wouldn’t.  
Once more, the air in Artemis’ lungs fled in a panicked frenzy leaving her suspended for the briefest moment before reality crashed in. Her knees felt weak, her head ached, and her muscles felt like overstretched rubber bands. Part of her wanted to collapse onto the cool marble floor but the other demanded she stand and show some dignity through it all.   
Across the way, Artemis spotted Apollo making his way towards her. She waved him off, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I can stand.”   
But that didn’t stop him from crushing her with a hug. “I didn’t know, Arty.”  
“I can’t breathe,” Artemis wheezed. Apollo’s grip barely loosened.   
“Did you-“  
“No, I didn’t,” Artemis replied, trying hard not to sound calloused. “Now please, don’t make a scene here. Well, one larger than you have. We can talk later I promise. I just...I want some pride after this.”   
“Of course,” Apollo nodded, feigning a quick check up on his sister. She was certain it didn’t fool anyone but the thought was warming.   
“Alright,” Zeus spoke at last, running a hand through his beard. If Artemis hadn’t glanced his way she’d have missed the light mist in his eyes. “A final deliberation must commence. We have no more information to gather. Everything of importance has been revealed. All that hasn’t is for them to keep. They deserve an ounce of privacy after all.”   
“You are dismissed,” Hera nodded at an impatient Artemis, seeming to identify the goddess’ anxiousness to leave. Artemis didn’t want to stay there longer than she had to. With a small bow and uttered words of thanks to Hera, she left.   
In the hallway, Hestia remained perched against a pillar. Her warm hand waved in a light arch of greeting. Artemis was thankful at least one person hadn’t seen the details of her life. Waving in return, Artemis made her way to her chambers.   
She left Zoë undisturbed no matter how much she wanted to curl up next to her Lieutenant. The Hesperide was a light sleeper and would surely wake. She needed her rest to recover.   
— — —  
“This better be good,” Dionysus groaned, “I’m not sitting through another debate that brings up the same points we’ve discussed previously. It’s drab and boring.”   
“Well,I have a point to consider,” Hermes offered, shifting uncomfortably in his throne. “If we allow the Hesperide to stay what else would be demanded of us? We can’t just assume the two will go on as they have.”  
“They’ll want more,” Poseidon nodded, “but I can’t blame them. It’s rare for these things to occur. For love to survive centuries.”  
“Yes, but how much more would they request?” Demeter frowned.   
“Marriage,” Hera shrugged, “which would be of little tax to us. Artemis would never agree to any grandiose ceremony. I doubt she’d even invite us.”   
“Or they’ll ask for other fallen huntresses to make their way here and act as servants of some sort,” Ares grumbled. “I would like to keep that sort of thing from happening.”  
“Be more practical,” Hades glowered. “Artemis is smart. She knows the limits of our patience. She has respected boundaries perhaps better than any of us. She would understand that her companions cannot join her here. She knows the cycle of life and death, values it even, and I dare say honors it.”   
“What about...” Aphrodite shuddered, “children?”   
“That is a circumstantial situation,” Hera noted.   
“Given the loss I don’t know if either would desire such a thing,” Hephaestus agreed, an odd occurrence between him and Hera.   
“They would,” Athena argued.   
“If they somehow have children. What would we do with them? What would they be? Artemis is a god but her lover isn’t. She’s half Titan half nymph. Three quarter gods aren’t-well...they’ve never happened,” Demeter sputtered, trying to picture the idea.   
“We can give Zoë her own domain. Something small,” Hermes decided.   
“Not a chance,” Ares shook his head. “Full godly children? Running amuck? That hasn’t happened in centuries and what would they rule over? We’d be re-writing history!”  
“When have you cared for history?” Hades sneered. “You enjoy the wars and the casualties that swamp my kingdom. Nothing more.”   
“Is it truly so difficult to offer up some small realm of power?” Apollo asked. “She’d be well suited to a realm of secondary position. Represent faithful companions. The loyalty between commander and lieutenant. Clearly she’s been nothing but loyal to my sister.”   
“That infringes on my domain!” Ares bellowed.  
“It can be within the military and elsewhere. No different than a boss and their second hand, or a doctor and their assistant, a blacksmith and an apprentice,” Hephaestus countered.   
“What? And risk the spawning of demigods?” Demeter worried.  
“You’d be foolish to think such a thing possible. They would never lie elsewhere than with each other. That circumstance is completely inapplicable to the discussion at hand,” Athena glowered. Demeter was easily flustered during matters such as these. It was as if her winter and summer sides were mixed together in a confusing mold. She was cold hearted and simultaneously generous. It left an odd taste in Athena’s mouth when times were critical like now.   
“We have to understand them first and foremost,” Zeus remarked, breaking his silence. “We have seen the finer details of their lives. They aren’t entirely separate people anymore. Their existence depends on each other. That is the danger of such a bond. Artemis is not just a leader. She’s a provider to many of your children and her duty still lies in the hunt. She won’t give that up. She’s pursued it even during the darkest of times.”   
“Her domain has remained balanced and her work organized for centuries. It won’t fall apart now,” Poseidon agreed.   
“What if something were to happen to one or the other? It could mean a threat to us all,” Aphrodite sighed. “Such collateral is dangerous.”   
“A fair point,” Zeus grunted. “Do we take that risk or not? That’s the question.”  
“We also have to recognize that Zoë isn’t a threat. She never had been, and whose to say welcoming her into the family won’t pay off in the end?” Hermes arched a brow. “I mean, she was clearly willing to strike down her father. That is no easy decision. I-I would know. My son...”  
“What would prevent her from doing that to us given he right motivation?” Ares countered.   
“Let’s not forget the loss they have shared,” Hades spoke grimly. “Artemis has lost much in her life. Countless companions have died in her hunt, she has let go of her sister so she may have a life, she has shown impeccable restraint in the face of numerous temptations, she has lost her own childhood by helping raise Apollo, and she’s lost her own child too.”   
“It was no more than a handful of cells,” Ares shook his head.   
“How dare you,” Apollo fumed. His eyes erupted in a flurry of flames and his form seemed to quiver. “A cluster of cells?! That could have been a niece or nephew of mine you bastard! It was lost protecting our home against our grandfather. For what? All because you stole father’s little weapon to start a war! So you could watch! Don’t you excuse the murder of an unborn child!”  
“They had a choice,” Ares sneered, “and what if they’d decided to not keep the stupid thing? Would you be angry?”   
“No. I am angry because there was no choice. They did not know of the child. Are you so blind you cannot see the casualties of your wars?” Apollo was nothing more than a vague shape consumed in fire hot enough to melt the metal of his throne. “My sister rarely asks for anything. My sister gives and never takes. She has done nothing but serve. She is everything I am not and everything I wish I could be. If you punish her because of your own beliefs I am sorry to share my blood with you. You are no family if you will turn on her now. If you break her heart, you break mine, and I have to put her back together! NOT YOU!”  
Silence settled upon the smoldering chamber.   
“I say we allow the Hesperide to stay,” Poseidon spoke solemnly.   
“As do I,” Hades nodded. “Apollo?”  
“I stand by you.”   
“Me as well,” Athena nodded.   
“As do I,” Hera sighed.   
“I can’t,” Dionysus shook his head. “Not with the potential for this to go awry.”   
“I, unfortunately must agree. We have a system. I value the functions of a system when they are efficient. They have been and I can’t see ya adapting well to this change,” Hephaestus looked as if he was going to be sick from his own words.  
“I say this is foolish. Cast aside the girl back to the underworld,” Ares glowered.  
“I can’t support the choice,” Demeter worried. “I’m sorry.”   
“I give my vote in favor of my daughter,” Zeus grumbled.   
All eyes collectively turned to the love goddess. She either tied the gore or ensured the victory. A tied vote would be enough to call the meeting to an end. They’d spent too long deliberating as it was. They could waste no more time.   
“Aphrodite, your vote...”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If any of you want you can follow my semi shit posting blog on tumblr: @zartemisofficial

“Your father wants you,” Hestia spoke softly, peeking into Artemis’ chamber with mild curiosity. The goddess had gone about re-arranging things in a nervous manner. “I think they’ve made a decision.”   
“Alright,” Artemis nodded, but her nerves were hardly collected. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen. She didn’t want to get her hopes up but she also didn’t want to go in expecting the worst. Who knew what could happen? In her temporary distraction Artemis dropped a candlestick. Truthfully she didn’t know why she had the stupid thing, but there it was glinting silver on the floor.  
“Phoebe,” Hestia warned, as the ember cat bounded onto the bed smothering Zoë in a blanket of warm fur having been startled.  
The Hesperide woke sputtering fur from her mouth. “Ugh, cat fur...”  
“My apologies. She’s not usually so skittish,” Hestia blushed, glaring embarrassingly at the creature which made a smug little bow. “It’s the tension in the air. It makes her nervous.”   
“It makes me nervous,” Artemis mumbled. Hestia gave her friend a sympathetic smile as the goddess wiped her palms upon her tunic. “I should be going.”  
“I’ll come,” Zoë offered, stretching her arms above her head.   
“No,” Artemis shook her head, “this is something I have to do alone. Hestia can keep you company.”  
“Certainly,” the hearth goddess nodded, going to collect the stubborn cat she called a friend.   
Zoë looked as if she wanted to protest but thought better of it. With a resigned sigh she let Artemis go. The moon goddess tried not to appear flustered, but her heart was pounding. She arrived in a half run half walk to find only her father present. That made her relax. There was less humiliation in her reaction if only he saw.   
“You came quickly,” He mused, trying to lighten the mood. Artemis didn’t laugh. “It was a close vote. There was much to worry over and there was severe opposition.”   
“I know,” Artemis breathed, her throat dry and tight.   
“But in the end, the decision stands. You understand that?”   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded.  
“She may stay,” Zeus smiled faintly, “but I would expect backlash. There are many unhappy around here.”  
For a moment Artemis stopped listening. She only cared about the first half of his sentence. Zoë could stay. She would get to live on Olympus. The thought had been something she hoped for but never thought would come to fruition.   
Part of the goddess wanted to run back and tell her lover the news right away, but the other part wanted to explode. She’d never felt so happy before. Years of worry and anxiety had finally boiled down to a small moment of success and happiness. The pain finally bore a reward.   
Suddenly, all the despair she’d bottled up gave way to hope. There were endless possibilities now. Things she’d never considered had the chance to take shape and futures undiscovered could unfold. It was better than any gift she’d ever been given.   
“Thank you,” Artemis managed to choke out, still grappling with disbelief.   
“There’s much to still decide. Smaller matters and all that, but it can be worried over much later,” Zeus assured, resting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.   
“You said the vote was close,” Artemis worried, “how close?”  
“One.”  
“Who?”  
“You know,” Zeus insisted.   
Confusion fogged the goddess’ brain. If she were right, the universe had surely made the joke of the century. There was no way in her uncle’s realm what Zeus insinuated had happened.   
Shaking her head, Artemis tried not to dwell on the information. Instead, she gave the king a light hug and bolted from the room. Feet sounding lightly upon the marble, Artemis rounded the corner into her chambers with enough speed to nearly fall.  
“What is it?” Zoë worried, scrambling to her feet.  
“You can stay,” Artemis panted through a wide grin.   
“What?” Zoë’s eyes widened in disbelief.   
“You can stay,” Artemis repeated, laughing at her lover’s expression. Even Hestia looked wonderfully surprised.   
“Yeah?”   
“Yeah,” Artemis nodded enthusiastically. In less than a second Zoë bounded across the room into the Goddess’ arms.  
It wasn’t until Artemis held Zoë that the gravity of the situation fully set in. She wouldn’t have to worry about the next time she got to see that beautiful face. Or when she’d get to hug the strong body of her lieutenant. When the next chaste kiss would come or bright laugh or smile or caress. Artemis wouldn’t have to be afraid of forgetting Zoë’s scent, the details of her eyes, the fit of their hands together, or the way the hesperide’s nose wrinkled when she sneezed. It would be there every day now, all of it, all of her.  
The sting of tears met Artemis’ eyes but for once they weren’t sad. It took her some time to realize she was crying, but the goddess didn’t care this time. Not when she had Zoë to wipe away her tears while Artemis did the same in return.   
“Was it close?” Zoë asked.   
“Yes. My father says it came to a single vote,” Artemis whispered, resting her forehead against Zoë’s. The lieutenant’s breath tickled her cheeks.  
“Who?”  
“That’s what I don’t understand,” Artemis frowned. “Aphrodite voted in our favor.”   
Zoë’s surprise was nearly comical, “wh-?!”  
“I need to find her. To know why,” Artemis decided, brushing her thumbs anxiously over Zoë’s cheeks.  
“The last time you confronted her you were wounded,” Zoë reminded, bristling at the idea.  
“This is different, I assure you,” Artemis promised, kissing Zoë once, twice, then three times on the brow. By the fourth, Artemis was torn between staying and going before prying herself away.   
Setting off in a light jog, she wasn’t sure where she’d find the love goddess but Artemis hoped it was soon. Aphrodite would build her walls back up in time. She couldn’t afford to miss an opportunity on to understand the ever calloused individual.   
After making a near complete loop through the throne room, courtyard, arena, and pavilion, Artemis found the goddess in the garden. She stood, arms crossed, expression pensive, with her eyes trained on the sunset, and a comically light breeze blowing her hair in perfect waves.  
Steadying herself, Artemis approached silently. She stood beside the goddess for a moment. Neither acknowledged the other’s presence until Artemis spoke. “Why?”  
“Collateral,” Aphrodite replied.  
“I don’t believe that,” Artemis turned to study the other woman.   
“You’re too curious for your own good,” Aphrodite frowned, sparing Artemis a heated gaze, but the gaze conveyed far more than Artemis thought it would. Aphrodite’s eyes were sad, fractured almost, and in a painfully beautiful way.   
“Ares is mad isn’t he?” Artemis arched a brow. “You never split a vote.”  
“Let him be mad,” Aphrodite hissed. The emotion was striking, but Artemis held her tongue. A long pause followed the outburst. This time though, Aphrodite broke the silence. “I had my suspicions you know. About the child. When I-well, you know.”  
“I do,” Artemis nodded, recalling the memory with a suppressed anger. “Not your finest moment.”  
Aphrodite ignored the comment, “it wasn’t hard to tell by how you reacted. The realization is-striking. It’s hard to tell what will spark the truth.”  
Something about the way Aphrodite spoke struck a chord in Artemis. Her question was hesitant, “Have you-did you lose...”  
“Yes,” Aphrodite nodded, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “A few times. It’s never any easier. You think it doesn’t happen because you’re a god. You expect things to be perfect. How could they not be? Perfect, I mean. But then they’re not and it has a way of catching you off guard. Because who expects it to happen? Who dwells on the idea until it’s too late? When the realization sets in all you can do is search for an explanation. Was it something you did? Something you didn’t do? But at the end of the day the only thing to blame is yourself. And you hate yourself for it. Because they deserve more than someone like you. Because you failed.”  
“Aphrodite...” Artemis struggled to process the burden that was suddenly being shared between them. She’d never would have guessed and part of her felt guilty for that.   
“It’s worse when others don’t seem to suffer the same. Not you until now, not Athena, not Persephone, not Hera, and not Hestia. So you’re alone and it’s almost better that way,” the love goddess’ arms tightened around herself and her appearance seemed to grow even more tragically beautiful. She looked childish almost, too small for the world around her.   
“Does anyone know?” Artemis asked, feeling her heart sink a little at the sight of the person she’d once written off as an unfeeling coward.  
“No,” Aphrodite laughed, but it wasn’t the usual pretty sound. “Why would they? Besides, why tell them? It’d be bitterly ironic don’t you think? For someone like me? No, they don’t know and it’s best that way. I don’t need the pity or the advice or the laughter. I don’t need any of it.”  
“So, Ares doesn’t know?”  
“He especially mustn’t know,” Aphrodite frowned. “To think I’m weak like that...he’d make a mockery of me. Laugh because it’s more of a reason I shouldn’t stray from what we have.”  
The love goddess shook her head in dismay. Artemis fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “It isn’t a sign of weakness. Things can’t always be prevented.”  
“You don’t know him like I do,” Aphrodite shifted nervously. “You weren’t there.”   
“For the meeting?”   
“You don’t know what he said. What he thinks. I-I love him I do, but there I times I hate him so much.” Tears glistened in broken eyes once more. “There are things we will never understand about one another. It’s why I find what I miss most of him in other people.”   
“You could change his perspective. Talk to him.” Artemis suggested.  
“Please, he doesn’t talk. He swings a sword and says he’s facing his problems. I’m not like you,” Aphrodite scoffed.  
“What does that mean?” Artemis frowned.  
“I can’t change people. You-you have an infuriating ability to draw the best out in people. You have this unbridled fire of hope. It’s disgusting but admirable. You don’t see the work you do on others. On Zeus, on Apollo, on Athena,” Aphrodite kicked lightly at a rock, “and me I suppose. Gods I hate you.”  
“I know,” Artemis laughed. “I make you sick.”  
“Violently ill.”  
“Extremely disgusted.”  
“Excessively nauseous.”   
“And most importantly: infinitely miserable,” Artemis mused, catching a slight glimmer in Aphrodite’s eye.   
“Yes,” the love goddess nodded, but she seemed to have taken the words in a different way. Artemis began to understand that perhaps love did leave someone infinitely miserable. It had seemingly done the same thing for her and Zoë. “What’s worse, I can hardly keep the kids I have. Selina...”  
“She was brave. I know Zoë was rude to her and I’m sorry-“  
“I didn’t give the girl much of a choice. I’m not particularly kind,” Aphrodite sneered, but the rage was directed at herself.   
“No one I know would have been brave enough to stand before a drakon as she did. Even I would have been afraid,” Artemis sighed, “but you know why she did it?”  
“Why?” Aphrodite asked, almost pleadingly.   
“Because she loved someone enough to do so. Charles, Clarisse, and her siblings.”   
“Love isn’t brave, Artemis. Everyone knows that,” Aphrodite mumbled. “Well, I think you’re wrong. Sometimes, when we find our courage it’s not from bravery itself but because we love something enough to let it live,” Artemis swallowed tightly, recalling her fallen companions, “even if we die.”  
“It’s late,” Aphrodite whispered, but her voice cracked ever so quietly. “You better go. We can’t walk in together. I have a reputation to salvage.”   
“Of course,” Artemis nodded. Hesitantly, she settled a hand upon Aphrodite’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.  
“I suppose you’ll tell Her about this won’t you?”  
“She won’t say a word,” Artemis promised.   
“Send her my apologies,” Aphrodite replied, staring straight ahead, “perhaps we have something in common after all.”   
“I will,” Artemis assured, leaving the other goddess behind to retreat back inside. Sighing, she tried not to think about the sad visage framed in moonlight that no one would know but her. She supposed some secrets were too fragile to be revealed in daylight beneath the harsh sun. They were best framed in the gentle glow of night. Tucked away, hidden, and unrevealed for the rest of the world to see.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there’s some errors. I’m sick and it’s hard to do much at the moment. Anyways, I was thinking of maybe starting a disorder for all of us to chill and hang out. Let me know if you’d be interested.

Artemis took pleasure in showing Zoë around the mountain. From the marketplace to the temples to the grand library. Zoë took all of it in with great curiosity, but the highlight of it all was her face upon seeing the library.   
The Hesperide’s eyes widened to the size of saucers at the sight of so many scrolls, books, letters, and documents. Much to the goddess’ amusement she followed Zoë about as the huntress collected anything of interest.   
All the while, Artemis looked on with a tender gaze at the childish excitement of her lover. With endless knowledge at Zoë’s disposal she spent most days devouring texts in bed or outside. It was rare she wasn’t greedily consuming some fragment of knowledge to be tucked away.   
While she was preoccupied, Artemis spent more and more time with her father. They needed to determine how the news of Zoë’s return would be shared. It needed to be concise and relatively vague. Just lengthy enough to offer a snapshot into the goddess’ life. After careful consideration Hermes made his rounds in delivering some post cards. Artemis herself thought it was tacky but Zeus insisted it would be effective.   
The real challenge for the goddess came with explaining herself to her huntresses. She knew they would be excited by the news but it was a complicated series of events to explain. What should she tell? What should she keep to herself? What did they need to know? What would they not care for?  
Eventually, mustering up the courage, Artemis opened up the discussion one evening around the campfire. The girls were eager to ask questions and Artemis did her best to answer them. What she was most surprised by was the fact that most of her companions already knew of her affections for Zoë.  
Artemis always thought she’d kept it well hidden, but she supposed there was only so much time that could pass before people began to suspect. Eventually they all would.   
“I want none of this to change the dynamic that we have,” Artemis frowned, “all that has been will be.”  
“My lady,” one of the girls chuckled, “forget about the past. Live with the future in mind. Most of us aren’t concerned about the dynamic so much as when we’ll get to see Zoë.”  
“She hasn’t changed has she?” Another asked.  
“No,” Artemis mused, “not a bit.”  
“Then what’s the hold up?” They demanded.  
“Nothing, I simply didn’t know how you would react. It‘s a touchy subject. My own family didn’t take lightly to it. Not the way all of you have,” The goddess explained.   
“Well, why wouldn’t we? We’ve missed her,” a daughter of Persephone grinned.   
Artemis was peppered with questions for the remainder of the day and when she returned home to Olympus she relayed what had happened.  
Zoë’s smile grew as Artemis described the excitement of the huntresses. In fact, Zoë was so excited she could barely go to sleep. Then, early the next morning, Artemis offered to take her to camp. Zoë was ready in an instant, and the giddiness in her smile was contagious.   
When they arrived at the campsite it was peaceful. Some of the elder girls had begun stirring their young companions, making breakfast, and setting the wolves on a hunt for lunch. Each was so preoccupied in their duties they didn’t notice the new arrivals.   
It wasn’t until Artemis cleared her throat that they snapped to attention. If she’d been able to, Artemis would have captured the moment to keep forever. The faces of her closest friends shifted to wide smiles, wrinkled noses from laughing, and happily squinted eyes.   
Zoë took the assault of hugs with relative grace but the camp soon devolved into a mountain of people, limbs, and giggling girls. The sight was truly adorable. Questions were rattled off by the millions it seemed and Zoë could hardly answer a single one, but none of the girls cared. They were happy just to have her back.   
Intent on keeping the day full of relaxed fun, Artemis cancelled their immediate plans and left the girls to do as they pleased. Each was keen on capturing some small fraction of Zoë’s attention even for a handful of seconds. All Artemis could do was smile.  
Zoë was all smiles, practically glowing at the attention, and pleasantly overwhelmed by the people she cared about. It was strange seeing them all unchanged but it was also perfect. They were exactly as she’d left them.   
— — —  
“I forgot how much I missed this,” the Hesperide sighed, helping Artemis put out the fire. After much complaining from the girls, Artemis insisted they retire lest they receive no rest at all. It was already nearing morning and they’d stayed awake longer than intended.   
“You don’t have to stay on Olympus,” Artemis noted, “all you have to do is ask and we can be here. In an instant.”   
“I worry though that you will spend all your time with me and they will be neglected,” Zoë frowned.  
“Don’t worry about that,” Artemis insisted. “They know I love them, and I can’t refrain from checking on them. Even when I was without you and all seemed bleak I found time for them. I have to or I begin to miss them.”   
“Alright,” Zoë nodded, relaxing at her patron’s reassurance.   
“Tomorrow, I was thinking we catch up with a few others,” Artemis smiled, taking Zoë’s hands in her own. “I promised to introduce you to someone. It’s time I fulfill that promise.”  
So, the next day Zoë followed Artemis to a place she’d forgotten about: New Rome. It was far different from the Hesperide’s distant memory of the place. There were more people, larger buildings, grander statues, legacies, and even fawns running rampant. She recalled the old timid regime it had once been.   
“This place has taken shape quite well,” Zoë noted.  
“It’s had many guiding hands,” Artemis agreed.   
Weaving through the stone streets full of playing children, Artemis arrived at a familiar house. It’s door was a faded color from years of use and the exterior had recently been redone.   
Sighing, she tapped her knuckles lightly upon the door waiting impatiently for a response. At last, the hunk of wood swung inwards revealing Thalia. Her hair was messed up as always, her attire remained the same, and she had a lopsided grin on her face.   
“Wondered when you’d pop by once we got this,” she smugly held up the god awful looking post card. “I don’t think you picked the design.”  
“Heavens no,” the goddess remarked.   
“You look...” Zoë tried desperately to think of something to say.  
“You said you,” Thalia frowned, “ no thee or thou or thy? Death really does something to you doesn’t it?”  
“You’re still a thorn in my side,” Zoë sighed, shaking her hand, but despite Thalia’s shit eating grin she hugged her old friend tightly.   
“It’s good to see you,” Thalia whispered.  
“You too. You haven’t changed,” Zoë noted. “I heard you took my mantel.”  
“Tried to,” the former huntress nodded, “but you’re one of a kind. Besides, I didn’t stick around too long. Things came up.”  
“Argentum no!”   
Zoë noticed a flash of bright metal try to bolt out of the door before being snagged by someone she didn’t recognize. “Interesting pet.”  
“Sorry,” Reyna huffed, collecting the heavy creature in her arms. “Likes to bolt. Never seems to learn. You are...?”  
“Rey,” Thalia sighed, “this is Zoë.”  
“Oh,” Reyna nodded, before the name clicked, “oh. Oh, hey. Uh, I’d shake your hand but there’s a dog.”   
“No worries,” Zoë smirked.  
“She’s not usually so...out of sorts,” Thalia winced.  
“What’s the cause of it?” Artemis arched a brow.   
“That would be the knuckle head of a child that I have who is currently trying to woo her girlfriend into something more permanent,” Thalia explained.  
“You have a kid?” Zoë nodded, almost uncertain. She recalled Artemis mentioning it but it hadn’t seemed quite real.   
“Yep,” Thalia nodded. “Guess we have a lot to catch up on?”  
“I’ll say,” Zoë nodded.   
— — —  
“So I was kidnapped by her and that’s how we met,” Reyna remarked smugly, as Thalia glared at her.   
“It was an accident. Your sister didn’t mention who you were exactly until after the fact,” Thalia huffed.   
“Anyways, I digress,” Reyna laughed.   
She and Thalia continued telling the lieutenant all she had missed. It was a lot of information for Zoë to take in but she managed it fairly well. In fact, the Hesperide couldn’t deny the fact that Reyna was very impressive. She could see why Thalia had been smitten. The girl was strong, a leader, independent, and they had similar things in heir pasts that helped them understand one another. Not to mention Reyna held the praetor title which was no small feet.   
“You should have seen Thia when she was young,” Artemis mused. “She was very curious.”  
“Didn’t get into too much trouble I hope,” Zoë remarked, “considering her mother.”  
“I am naturally curious but I’m not stupid,” Thalia snorted, “...well, at times I can be stupid.”  
“There, there,” Reyna smirked, taking Thalia’s hand.   
The sound of the front door easing open caused each of the women to glance over to the source of commotion.   
“That is the last time I clean elephant stalls in my lifetime,” Thia shivered, not noticing the guests until she was halfway into the kitchen. “Aunt Arty!”  
Artemis didn’t get a word out before Thia had smothered her in a hug. “Hello.”  
“How are you? How’s everyone else? Is uncle Apollo cool? Any stories? How about the-“ Thia only stopped rambling when Thalia slapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth.   
“Slow down, you’re going to explode,” she smiled.  
“Who’re you?” Thia asked as soon as Thalia had let go. She was studying Zoë with care who was doing the same in return. Artemis hesitantly introduces Zoë to her niece who remained oddly quiet. Then, all of a sudden she ran off.  
“That child,” Reyna groaned, resting her forehead on the table.   
The sound of sporadic feet pounding on the floor signaled Thia’s return. The young adult held out something very familiar. It was a silver circlet Zoë hadn’t seen in years.  
“This is yours,” Thia blurted. “I uh, I kind of took it as a kid. I mean, it was my fault, I thought it was cool and...well, here.”  
Zoë took the object from the nervous girl and turned it over in her hands. “Didn’t think this still existed.”  
“Thia,” Artemis laughed warmly, “you still had it?”  
“You let me keep it. Of course I had it,” Thia blushed bashfully. “I kind of always wanted to meet the person who had it. So, this is really cool.”  
“You told her about me?” Zoë whispered.   
“Mm,” Artemis nodded, smiling to herself.   
“Well, if it’s been in such good hands for so long why not keep it?” Zoë asked, extending her hand once more. Thia regarded the object for a moment before taking it with shaking hands. She recalled long ago when Artemis insisted the lieutenant would want her to have it.   
“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” Thia stammered. “Thank you. It means a lot.”   
Thia lingered for a moment, looking very much like a little kid who’d accidentally intruded on an adult conversation before leaving. Artemis watched her go with a look of sadness. She didn’t understand why Thia was so skittish. The girl had never been nervous before like she was now. With a sigh, the goddess followed her niece finding Thia in her room. She supposed it wouldn’t be long until the girl moved out. If what Thalia was saying was true, Thia was planning on having her own life away from the one here.  
“You’re skittish,” the goddess remarked, capturing the attention of Thia from where she sat on her bed.   
“I don’t mean to be,” Thia frowned, “it’s just-I don’t know.”  
“Talk to me,” Artemis insisted, sitting beside the demigod.   
“One, she’s really pretty,” Thia sighed, “and that makes her intimidating. Two, I’m going to make a fool of myself. Three, I know all about her but she doesn’t know me and what if I’m weird? I just never expected to actually meet her. She’s so, esteemed, heroic, brave, and I’m just-me.”  
“She isn’t that esteemed,” Artemis smiled, “believe me when I say she is as human as you are. You two have much in common.”  
“How?” Thia frowned.   
“For one, you both struggled to find your place in the world. She was rejected, you weren’t born like other demigods and so your peers rejected you, she has powerful heritage, you have powerful heritage, she doesn’t know your world the way you do, and you don’t know her world the way she does. You’re both stubborn, intelligent, beautiful, and you too are brave. Don’t sell yourself short,” Artemis nudged Thia with her elbow. “Besides, she’s wanted to meet you for a while.”  
“She has?”  
“Yes,” Artemis nodded. “She asked me some time ago.”  
“I-I didn’t know that,” Thia sighed.   
“Talk to her. She’ll enjoy the company,” Artemis promised.   
With replenished confidence, Thia managed to return to the kitchen. Artemis was right in suspecting the two would hit it off nicely. They walked about camp all day sharing stories. Artemis knew Thia was embarrassing her and Thalia, but she also knew Zoë was doing the same I return.   
They were quite cute. All wrapped up in their conversation until the sun began to set and the dining hall slowly beckoned people in. Sure that the two would talk all evening the Goddess was about to interrupt when someone new joined the conversation.   
Thia was tackled by a flying hug, but she held the girl upon her back with a bit of stumbling. “Leah, yore lucky I don’t drop you.”   
“You have,” the other girl replied smugly.   
“I was holding my lunch,” Thia argued.   
“I’m only teasing,” Leah grinned, kissing Thia on the temple before climbing down. “Came to find you for dinner. You’re never this late.”  
“I got distracted,” Thia sighed briefly introducing Zoë. The newcomer shook hands with the Hesperide before Thia politely excused herself and ran off with the girl.   
“They’re cute,” Zoë noted, moving to stand by Artemis. “Young, naive, and in love.”  
“Tell me you aren’t a hopeless romantic now,” Artemis mused.  
“I’ve always been one,” Zoë laughed, “ever since I met you anyways.”   
“She was scared to meet you, you know.”  
“I was nervous myself,” Zoë admitted.   
“But you adore her,” Artemis concluded.  
“It’s hard not to,” Zoë sighed, settling her head upon the goddess’ shoulder. “She’s so full of life, so young, happy, and hopeful. I miss that in some of the girls. I want nothing more than for Thia to stay that way forever.”  
“She will,” Artemis assured, “she has a great family to look after her. Now, let’s go home. I have a feeling she’ll be caught up the rest of the night. She never stays up long after dinner.”   
“I almost don’t want to leave,” Zoë admitted. “It’s nice here. There’s families, full ones with grandparents and little children. It’s...well, it reminds me of the old empires.”  
Artemis senses the nostalgia taking over Zoë’s aura. “It reminds you of home.”   
“When I was young and my father’s palace was an entire world,” Zoë nodded. “I’m glad a place like this exists for people like them. They deserve it.”  
“They do indeed,” Artemis agreed. Taking Zoë’s hand the two lovers returned to Olympus in a fraction of a second. They said nothing as they settled into bed together both surprisingly tired from the reunions. But Artemis was happy because Zoë was happy. She was happy because for once she didn’t have to worry about that being the last meeting Zoë ever had with the rest of her family. There would be many more of those to come. The goddess looked forward to each and every one of them.


	15. Discord Link

https://discord.gg/eqdx2t


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Zoë sat hunched over at a small table amidst a stack of books. She was occupied with an old story. One she knew very well. The watery paintings contained in the yellowing pages were as faded as the past. Almost like the fog that clung to her father’s mountain existed in the artwork itself.   
She had promised not to go snooping around in old stories. Ones she knew held falsehoods but she couldn’t help it. She was curious to say the least. But there they were, her sisters, silhouetted in soft colors, beautiful, and regal. She wasn’t one of them.   
Sure, part of Zoë knew they’d been effective in erasing her from history but she never guessed they‘d been that effective. She didn’t exist in a single page of the works she’d read. Still, somehow, it hadn’t seemed real until she find out for herself.  
“The past can hurt,” Athena noted, peering carefully over the Hesperides’ shoulder, “but it doesn’t have to.”  
“It doesn’t hurt,” Zoë assured, “but it saddens me. I don’t think I will ever understand why they chose their paths. Why they did what they did.”  
“That’s the trouble with family,” Athena smiled softly, “sometimes they keep things so secret it drives us crazy.”  
“Are you referring to Artemis’ absences?” Zoë arched a brow. “Because I don’t know where she’s been wandering off to. If I did I would tell you. It’s just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you.”   
“Well,” Athena sighed, “Guess we’ll have to find out one way or another. In due time I suppose.”  
“She’s very...secretive,” Zoë mused, “but never without good intentions.”  
“True indeed,” Athena agreed. “Tell me, is she the cause of Aphrodite’s change in character?”  
“It was a joint effort I believe. They’ve finally come to an understanding. I can’t say it isn’t nice not to have the goddess floating about and making life miserable,” Zoë shrugged, collecting the borrowed books to return them.  
“I see,” Athena moved to help managing to collect the last few. “Well, I’m glad. I’ve handled that woman for centuries too and it’s a nice reprieve. Though Ares’ temper has only increased. I find his arrogance stifling.”  
“Glad we remain distant,” Zoë noted, “I don’t think we’d get along very well.”  
“Oh, definitely not. Though part of me is curious to see what you would do to him,” Athena’s grey eyes took on a hint of mischief. Zoë only laughed.  
— — —  
Artemis’ odd little escapade went on for nearly an entire week and each time Zoë questioned her about it the goddess would smirk. The poor lieutenant was never given a straight answer much to her burning curiosity and dismay.   
Artemis assured she would know soon enough only to vanish once more. In attempts to keep herself from growing bored, Zoë meandered about Olympus making friends with nymphs and satyrs alike.   
Many of the satyrs were seekers who’d passed on into the next life, or guardians, and even nature preservationists. The most valiant ones were given stay on Olympus. Needless to say, their stories were dazzling and there were times Zoë recalled a name or two from time’s long ago.   
She was particularly intrigued by an old weathered satyr with large curly horns, grey bushy legs, and a carefully braided beard. He had a special kind of talent in playing the pipes. A skill so ancient and so well mastered it seemed he had invented music himself.   
“After some time this little thing became no different than an extra limb,” he grinned. His voice was no different than a gentle grating of gravel. Worn by age and use. Still, it gave him an even more endearing nature.   
“Ah, I see you’ve found Old Mister Potts.”  
Zoë turned to find Artemis leaning on a vine covered column looking fondly at the ancient satyr. “Yes, he’s very gifted.”  
“Ah,” Mister Potts blushed sheepishly, “you flatter me my lady. Playing’s the only thing these old bones still know how to do.”  
“None sense,” Artemis laughed, “last time I saw you you were scampering about with the baby goats.”  
“Pish posh,” spluttered the satyr. He chuckled so deeply he nearly fell from his worn tree stump seat. “I won’t have this flattery. No ma’am. You’re too kind. Too kind. Why, I remember when you’d flatter me even as a child. Oh you could barely sit still when I played. Always chasing the birds.”  
“Chasing birds?” Zoë mused, noticing the glimmer in Artemis’ eyes.   
“I was a restless child. How else would we have met?” Came the coy reply.   
“She’s a gentle spirit you got there,” Mister Potts assured, “not a bad bone in her body.”  
“Now who is doing the flattering Mr. Potts?” Artemis arched a brow earning another spluttered reply from the satyr.   
“Alright, alright, you win. This battle of wits ain’t what it used to be with us. I’m old,” Mr. Potts snorted, giving a delighted bleat soon after. “I have baby billy goats to collect. They have lessons to attend.”  
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Zoë insisted, stooping down to give the satyr a light hug.   
Both girls watched the old goat scramble up and over a rocky hedge to find his grandkids. He was one of the kindred spirits upon Olympus and well looked after.   
“I didn’t know you had a fondness for old goats,” Artemis teased.   
“Clearly you do too,” Zoë countered, joining Artemis by the edge of the little marble theater.   
“Mmm,” the goddess smiled, wrapping an arm about her lover’s waist.   
“So, will you tell me why you’ve been keeping secrets?” Zoë asked.   
“Tonight,” Artemis whispered, smiling proudly at the look of confusion on her companion’s face.   
“Don’t be a tease,” Zoë frowned.  
“I’m not finished yet,” Artemis explained.   
“Well, don’t go killing yourself just for me,” Zoë frowned.  
“I won’t,” Artemis promised, kissing Zoë on the forehead. “But...I didn’t come just to tease you. I’m here if you’d like to do anything together. Wander around, bother old Potts again, steal something from my brothers, and more. Whatever your heart desires.”  
“Personally,” Zoë sighed, “I’d like to have lunch.”  
“You haven’t eaten?” Artemis frowned.  
“I may have forgotten because of the pipes.” The Hesperide mimicked blowing into a set of reed pipes. Artemis laughed at the ridiculous gesture that only made her love the silly girl more.  
“Alright, then lunch it is.”  
Walking hand in hand the two girls made their way about Olympus until Zoë found something that caught her eye. It wasn’t much but the smell was enticing and she’d rather have something small and good than grand and bland.   
Not to mention it was nice just getting to sit and enjoy the goddess’ company. The way those silver eyes caught sunlight was always mesmerizing.   
“You’re staring,” Artemis smiled just enough for a flash of white teeth to show.   
“Hard not to,” Zoë smirked, “in case you didn’t know you’re rather gorgeous.”  
“Flattery seems to be the mood for today,” Artemis teased, resting her chin on the table.   
“So it does,” Zoë agreed, copying the move.   
— — —  
“Arty?” Zoë pursed her lips in thought later that evening as they headed back to the grand marbled arches of Olympus.  
“Hm?” The goddess asked, glancing at her lieutenant.  
“Is it possible for me to age? Just the slightest?”   
“I-Yes, but what’s spurred this thought?” Artemis paused in their walk and held Zoë’s hands in her own.  
“Well, it’s just that I look so young. Childish even, and there’s times I think about-“  
“How others perceive you,” Artemis concluded.  
“Yes.”  
“Well, may I provide my advice?”   
“Of course.”  
“I wouldn’t hesitate to give back a few of the years I’ve kept in my possession but, well, I find you perfect as you are. Not to mention, you may find little change should I do this,” Artemis pressed her lips into a thin line. “How old would you want to look?”  
“Not much older than I am now,” Zoë promised, “just enough to be considered an adult in the eyes of others. I don’t like being viewed as a child amongst them. It’s different when it’s us or the girls or Thalia because they know me-the real me-but no one here does. No one but a few.”  
“Zoë,” Artemis cupped the girl’s cheeks in her hands, “if you truly desire this then I’ll do it. Promise me you’ve thought this through.”  
“I have. For some time,” Zoë assured.   
“Alright,” Artemis nodded, pressing a light kiss to un-expecting lips. “Close your eyes.”   
Zoë did as she was told. With the soft mumble of an old incantation Artemis watched as the girl glowed faintly for a moment. When the light subsided she was unsurprised by the result.   
Zoë looked exactly the same aside from the faintest details only the keenest eyes could see. Her face had slimmed ever so slightly, her jaw appeared stronger, her eyes were more intense in color, and she was slightly more muscled. But Artemis couldn’t help but see the same girl she always had. The same beautiful face and body.   
“You’re quite,” Zoë frowned.  
“No, I’m only admiring the view,” Artemis smiled. “You look the same dear. Except for a few ever minor details, but the question is-how do you feel?”  
“Better. More...”  
“Confident? Less childish?” Artemis asked.  
“Yes,” Zoë nodded, glad she didn’t look completely different. “I look more like how I feel.”  
“Good,” Artemis nodded, “I’m glad. Have you-have you wondered this for some time?”  
“Only recently. It’s troubling not being taken seriously,” Zoë glowered.   
“Well, they’ll be in for a shock won’t they?” Artemis grinned, “you’re already glowing.”   
“Didn’t you have somewhere to be?” The Hesperide reminded.  
“You come first. Always,” Artemis promised, before running off like an excited kid. Zoë only laughed. The Goddess was always full of surprises.   
— — —  
Zoë walked hand in hand with Artemis through the garden upon the goddess’ prompting. She’d insisted on it after returning from whatever business she’d taken care of. 

Sighing in contentment, Zoë observed the world around them. All through the garden vibrant flowers drank up moonlight with greedy leaves and petals. The birds had gone to bed and the mountain seemed surprisingly still. A faint thrum of insect wings striking up nightly music carried out over the grass accompanied by an occasional breeze.   
“Alright,” Artemis smiled softly, pausing their stroll once more.   
“What?” Zoë asked, turning to face the goddess.   
“I asked you something a long time ago. When I did, there wasn’t a viable future in it, but now there is,” Artemis spoke quietly as if it were hard to talk any louder.   
“You’ve asked me many things,” Zoë reminded gently, “which are we talking about?”   
“Well,” Artemis swallowed tightly, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “you wanted to know why I was gone so frequently. It was to make this.”   
Something metallic caught in the moonlight. It was hard to make out at first but slowly Zoë made sense of what it was. The object was an intricately designed piece of metal. Small engravings of Greek letters framed the outside accompanied by delicate constellations.  
“Arty-“  
“I wanted to ask again. Properly this time,” Artemis stumbled on her words for a moment, “would you-will you...marry me?”  
“You mean we aren’t already?” Zoë teased, kissing the goddess lightly. “Of course.”  
“Thank you,” Artemis sighed, as if she’d been holding her breath the entire time. “I-I made this myself. With the help of Hephaestus of course.”  
“Your pour hands,” Zoë frowned, noticing the faint little blisters from working with hot metal, the painfully short nails, the small cuts across the knuckles, and the tired strain of muscles.   
“Shh,” Artemis shook her head, taking a slender hand in her own and placing the cool ring on the designated finger, “we aren’t going to worry right now. Not tonight okay?”  
“Okay,” Zoë laughed, kissing each of her patron’s hands in turn as if they would heal by the gesture.   
With a soft gaze that could have made anyone melt, Artemis placed a sweet kiss on Zoë’s lips but the proximity brought something new. Zoë’s aura had always been strong, always confident, but the age change had done something to that aura. It only heightened the power in that young body, the confidence, the strength, and it was painfully intoxicating. Almost like her scent had strengthened too. To the point that it was overwhelming.   
“You smell good,” Artemis smiled into the kiss drawing out a crisp laugh from her lover. “Really good.”   
“Yeah?” Zoë arched a brow.   
“Yeah,” Artemis nodded, nuzzling her face into the Hesperide’s neck and tugging her close. A shiver raced down her spine violent enough for Zoë to notice.   
“I see...” She noted smugly.   
“Shut up,” Artemis frowned, but there was no bite to her words. “I can’t help it. There’s nature at play and I-“  
“Shh,” Zoë settled a finger over the goddess’ lips, “no worrying tonight remember? No worrying.”   
The goddess’ features softened and she gave a resigned nod. Tucking a strand of loose hair back behind Zoë’s ear she stared intently at the warm eyes staring back at her. The Goddess was sure she’d spontaneously combust under that gaze, but it’d be one hell of a way to go.   
The stare came to an end when their lips crashed together once more. Warm breath dusted cheeks and necks and shoulders as hands roamed over familiar territory. The kiss of a warm breeze cooled the rising heat in the atmosphere about them but it only did so much to prevent a fire from blossoming.   
A violent flash of light drew spots in the goddess’ gaze as Hermes landed not far from the couple. With a growl Artemis closed her eyes. She was tired of this. The next person who interrupted her was going to die. Tearing her mouth away from Zoë’s she glared irritatedly at her brother.   
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Hermes stammered holding his hands up in defense.  
“What is it?” Artemis sighed, approaching the messenger god while simultaneously straightening her appearance.  
“Just this-“Hermes held out a letter.   
Artemis was about to bat it away in irritation when she recognized the name and the handwriting.   
“Oh...thank you,” she nodded, giving Hermes a sympathetic expression.   
“Don’t mention it,” he nodded, waving happily at Zoë who tried her best not to look too embarrassed. “Fine evening yes? Flowers certainly look wonderful.”   
“Uhm...yes,” Zoë nodded.  
“Brother, Hermes,” Artemis sighed, trying not to laugh, “just go.”  
“Oh thank gods,” he breathed, vanishing in a flurry of wind and feathers.   
“Who is it from?” Zoë asked, moving to stand behind the goddess. She settled her chin upon a pale shoulder and peered at the careful cursive.   
“Thia,” Artemis smiled, opening the envelope with attempted care but it didn’t last. She’d always struggled at opening envelopes neatly.   
After wrestling with the envelope itself, Artemis opened the letter carefully. She read it slowly as not to miss anything, and her heart seemingly skipped a beat. “That little girl is such a clever kid.”  
“How’d she know you were going to ask?” Zoë wondered.   
“She’s always had impeccable intuition,” Artemis sighed, “and I heard she’s planning on doing the same soon. Guess she’ll need some advice on how to do it. Thankfully I can deliver.”  
“Right,” Zoë laughed, “because you’re an expert now?”   
“Well, I’ve done it twice now technically so I say that makes me an expert,” Artemis grinned. She earned a playful shove from the Hesperide. “Come on. Let’s go home and get to bed. It’s late.”   
“I love you,” Zoë sighed, wrapping an arm about Artemis’ waist and settling her head on the goddess’ shoulder.   
“I love you too. To the moon and back,” Artemis whispered.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Planning weddings was difficult. Artemis despised the entirety of it and it’d only been three days. She wanted simplicity, but no one else understood that desire. She had her family breathing down her neck at every turn. It was driving her insane.   
Apollo wanted a grand ceremony, one truly fit for the occasion, but the ceremony wasn’t to be boring by any means. Ares wanted no part in the event and insisted it be as private as possible lest he puke. Hera believed a traditional wedding was best suited for the occasion but that opposed Apollo’s ideas.   
Meanwhile Athena was already planning a more practical approach trying to balance Artemis’ ideals with the rest of the family. Poseidon wanted mellow colors while Hades insisted things weren’t too bright. Demeter wanted to select flowers but Persephone disagreed with all of her mother’s choices.   
“What will you wear?” Apollo asked, looking expectantly at his sister.   
“I-I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Artemis stammered, trying to follow the plethora of conversations going on.   
“Well it can’t be your hunting garb,” Apollo snorted, “that would be tragic.”  
“I’m aware,” Artemis frowned.   
“Everything can’t be silver or it’ll look like a disco ball,” Hermes wondered allowed, “but I think that’d be kind of nice.”   
“It won’t all be silver,” Artemis sighed.   
“Can we not have the entire throne room occupied with this mess?” Ares grimaced, plucking one of Athena’s numerous notebooks up to toss it aside.   
“Touch my things again and I will castrate you,” The wisdom goddess hissed, retrieving her notebook.   
“Before we decide anything it needs to be organized or we’ll never get anything done,” Hera grumbled. Though this was her domain it seemed no one was keen on listening to her.   
“Beverages,” Dionysus noted, “are important. I’m only allowed wine on certain occasions so make sure there’s plenty of it.”   
“What about invitations? I’ll have to deliver all of those,” Hermes mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in thought.   
“I will help,” Artemis promised, only to be tapped on the shoulder by an impatient Demeter.  
“Please tell me you aren’t thinking of roses.”   
“No. No roses,” Artemis shook her head.   
“Tulips?”  
“No.”  
“Dandelions?”  
“Yes!” Apollo cried.   
“No,” Artemis glared. “I’ll decide when I want to. I don’t think flowers are the most important. They grow all over the planet we can surely find some when necessary.”   
“Have you picked a color scheme?” Zeus arched a brow. “We can start there.”   
“To be fair it’s not like she’s pitched out any ideas,” Ares snorted.   
“I have,” Artemis growled, “but none of you will listen for more than five seconds.”   
“I’ve got it. You should have Cherry blossoms,” Demeter grinned.   
“I don’t want cherry blossoms! I don’t care about your stupid flowers!” Artemis snapped.   
The throne room slowly shushed until everyone was watching the goddess closely.   
“It was only a suggestion,” Demeter whispered.   
“Your seventy fifth,” Artemis breathed, “and frankly I didn’t know that many flowers existed.”   
“How about we hold off on the flowers then,” Athena carefully pushed Demeter away despite the goddess’ grumbles of protest.   
“Well then,” Zeus sighed, “What next?”   
“I don’t know. But you all can decide if you’d like,” Artemis stood, dusting her hands off on her thighs. “Take care of it and I’ll show up when I need to.”   
“Artemis, you can’t say that to everyone,” Apollo replied, “it’ll be chaos. Someone has to have authority.”   
“Fine,” Artemis snorted, shaking her head in disbelief, “Athena and Hera.”   
With that said, the huntress turned curtly on her heel and slipped outside. Fresh air had never tasted so good. She wanted to shove her head into a tree and stay like that forever if it meant she didn’t have to put up with her family.   
With a frustrated grunt she booted a rock clear over a nearby wall. With any luck it’d knock one of her family members out. Trying to calm herself she kicked a few more but it was no use.   
“Calm down there,” Zoë laughed, “don’t go blowing up the whole mountain.”   
Artemis looked up to find the Hesperide with Mr. Potts’ grandkids attached to her limbs. One was gnawing on a thin bracelet upon her wrist, another was latched onto her ankle fast asleep, and the third was riding on her shoulders with wide brown eyes drinking in the universe.   
“You wouldn’t believe-“  
“I think I would,” Zoë mused, setting the little satyrs down and gently waking the third. She carefully shooed them off back to Mr. Potts and his family.   
“It’s absolute chaos. I want no part in it. Whatever they decide will be enough,” Artemis swallowed tightly. “I don’t care enough anymore to bother.”   
“Hey,” Zoë’s eyes softened. Resting her hands on the goddess’ shoulders she made Artemis face her. “This isn’t something you should concede on to avoid an argument. You-we’ve-waited ages for this. If I’d known it would be such a hell in there I wouldn’t have busied myself with helping Mr. Potts. I’d have come to help with what we decided.”   
“Yes, well, my suggestions were tossed aside in seconds. We’d barely even determined people to invite, let alone the fact that it was going to be here on Olympus. They want everything determined now,” Artemis vented. The poor girl looked to be thinking of a million things at once. Her hands shook in agitation and her gaze barely remained steady.   
“Listen,” Zoë spoke firmly, “just because they’re family doesn’t mean they get to decide this for you. This isn’t their wedding. It’s ours. Which means they can whine all they want but it doesn’t matter. It’s okay to go slow. This doesn’t have to happen tomorrow. In fact, I wouldn’t want it to happen tomorrow. The process is supposed to be half the fun. Sure it’s stressful but hey-what can you do?”   
“I just-“ Silver eyes glittered with tears like broken glass, “I want it to be simple. I don’t want everyone there. I don’t want it to be grand or-or superficial. I don’t want it to be some sort of spectacle.”  
“That’s okay,” Zoë assured, gently wiping away fallen tears.   
“I want it to be just us. Still, I know I can’t do that because it’s not fair to people like Thalia or Thia or Jason and the others in my family. But I don’t want to feel like everyone’s watching me. Watching us. I don’t want to do things how you’re supposed to. I don’t want everyone to watch our first dance. How can it be special if everyone’s there for it? I don’t want some stupid cake cutting or flower toss that’s bound to kill someone. With my luck someone will fall off Olympus trying to catch the damn thing. I don’t even care about decorations or color schemes or flowers.”  
“Arty,” Zoë settled her hands on either side of the goddess’ face, “whatever you want to happen can. I just...I don’t understand why you’re so afraid to fight for it.”   
“Because I’m scared,” Artemis whimpered.   
“Why?”   
“Because things don’t ever work out like this for us. I’m waiting for someone to pull the rug out from beneath us and laugh while I die all over again. If I ask, if I try for this, whose to say they won’t tear apart all that we’ve been lucky to have so far?” Though Artemis didn’t know it, Zoë could see the genuine fear in those silver eyes and it broke her heart.   
“No one’s going to hurt us. Not anymore. The others voted, Arty. They made this okay. They’re letting this happen,” Zoë promised, holding her lover tight.  
“You don’t know them like I do. Vows mean nothing to most of them. They will break anything they want without a second glance,” Artemis whispered, hiding her face in the hesperide’s shoulder.  
“You’ve changed most of them,” Zoë reminded, playing with the ends of Artemis’ hair. “You’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”   
“And-and I’m afraid to ask my father...” Artemis trailed off.   
“What?”   
“I want my mother to be there,” Artemis’ voice was so quiet Zoë nearly missed what she’d said.   
“Oh, Artemis, is that what this is all about?”   
“I miss her,” the goddess sobbed, “and she doesn’t know about any of this. The last time she saw me I-I was sick. She’s alone and sometimes I think about how I have you and...she doesn’t have anyone. It’s not fair. If she can come to this for once, just once, that’s all I ask for. But I’ve asked for so much already and there’s history between my father and her. Not to mention Hera-“  
Artemis was interrupted by a gentle kiss. “Ask for forgiveness later. Let her come. I guarantee you most of your family will fear both of your wraths more than anything.”   
“I...”Artemis could barely speak. Her words were interrupted by the silent spasms of her diaphragm that came when sobs slowly died. “I don’t know. Sh-She might s-say no-o.”  
“She wouldn’t. And you won’t know if you don’t try.”   
“Okay,” Artemis nodded, sniffling and wiping embarrassedly at her tears. “I’m sorry. I feel so ch-childish for this. I shouldn’t be crying over such st-stupid concerns”.   
“They’re not stupid,” Zoë assured, “and it’s okay to be angry at your family. Arty, there’s not a day that goes by where I’m not angry at my father.”   
“He is pretty awful,” Artemis laughed weakly.   
“Just, don’t worry about them. It’ll be okay I promise,” Zoë pressed a light kiss to her lover’s brow. Artemis seemed to have gathered her composure once more but she refused to go back to her family for the time being, she didn’t think she’d be able to bear it.   
“Can we do nothing today?” The goddess asked.   
“Nothing?” Zoë arched a brow.   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded.   
At first Zoë didn’t quite understand what the goddess meant until they were curled up on a mountain of fur in silence. She didn’t mind it one bit. Doing nothing was quite honesty one of her favorite things to do she decided.   
Artemis was nestled comfortably against her, arm slung across Zoë’s torso, legs shuffled together, face buried in the crook of her neck, and free arm tucked snuggly beneath the pillows.   
There were times Zoë was certain Artemis had fallen asleep but she let the girl rest. In the meantime she took to inspecting her ring again. The design was impeccable. Part of her couldn’t believe that Artemis had made it, but the other part of her knew that only Artemis could make it.   
Each constellation had been crafted with care along with the letters. She’d finally determined what the lettering said, and each time she read it Zoë couldn’t help but fall even more in love with the slumbering goddess. The ring read: My Equal. It had moved from a silver circlet; an ancient promise, to a silver ring; a new promise. Somehow it felt fitting.   
Zoë’s thoughts were interrupted when Artemis stirred, moving so her head now rested on Zoë’s shoulder. “It took seven tries to get that right.”   
“Seven?” Zoë mused.   
“I was hoping it’d only take one but every time I thought I’d finished there was some imperfection to fix,” Artemis explained, lacing her fingers together with Zoë’s.  
“I doubt I’d have noticed it,” the Hesperide promised.   
“Maybe, but it was for my own peace of mind,” Artemis hummed. “I can’t give you half bake things now can I?”  
“You could and I’d still love them,” Zoë assured.   
“I know,” Artemis laughed. “I didn’t ask, but what were you up to with Mr.Potts’ grandkids? They seemed to attach like parasites.”  
“He warned me they were clingy,” the lieutenant smiled, “but he’d had trouble getting them to bed.”  
“How’d you manage to coax them to sleep?”  
“I told them a story,” Zoë shrugged, careful not to jostle Artemis from her comfortable position.   
“What about?”  
“The time I met a young twin. Injured, desperately in need, practically begging for my help, and I being the noble person I am couldn’t refuse,” Zoë smirked.   
“Yes, that’s precisely how we met,” Artemis snorted.   
“No,” Zoë laughed, “I told them about my home and raising Ladon. They were fascinated.”   
“Do you miss Ladon?”   
“Yes, but I know things can’t be as they were. It’s no different than a mortal and their dog I suppose. It’s hard to raise something up only for it to turn against you. But I know it’s more from his duty than actual malice. He was always good at his job,” Zoë smiled, recalling the way Ladon had grown over the years.   
“It’s fitting that you’d raise a dragon,” Artemis mused, “because it’s the only animal with a fiery spirit like your own.”   
“I suppose when you raise a dragon you can raise anything. It’s why the wolves were never hard to handle,” Zoë decided.   
“Perhaps I should have had a dragon before Apollo. He’d have been easier to grapple with,” The goddess teased.  
“One thing I’ve learned is that Apollo always means well he just isn’t good at showing it all the time.”   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, “I know. But there’s times I can’t help but feel that he forgets what his interests are and what mine are.”  
“All siblings are like that. Mine were,” Zoë sighed. “We often want the people we care about to value the same things we do. So we have more to share with one another. Perhaps simply talking to him would make this planning thing much easier. He has the eye for these things.”   
“Sorry to interrupt,” a light knock sounded on the door frame followed by the hesitant clearing of a throat. Aphrodite looked extremely uncomfortable but she’d managed to draw the attention of both girls, “but I thought I might be able to help.”   
“With what?” Artemis frowned, sitting up.   
“Well, I managed to remove the men from the situation,” Aphrodite smirked and Artemis suddenly got the idea that she’d used a bit of force to do so. “Less mouths means less idiocy.”  
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Artemis sighed, “but there’s a bit too much estrogen in that room.”   
“Oh, I sent Demeter on a wild rose chase so to speak. She’ll be gone for some time,” Aphrodite’s smirk only grew.   
Zoë arched a brow and shared a rather skeptical and fearful look with Artemis. “What’d you do?”   
“I told her to find Grey Moon Lanterns. A flower that doesn’t exist. So...there’s that,” the love goddess shrugged.   
“Well, in that case I guess the throne room won’t explode,” Artemis smiled faintly. “Thank you...uh, for managing the mess.”  
“Eh, I’m a sucker for drama,” Aphrodite waved her hand, “and a sucker for mischief. I can get these people believing anything.”   
“That’s extremely cynical,” Zoë whispered.   
“It’s her nature I suppose,” Artemis whispered in reply. “Well, I’ll be there. Just give me a moment.”   
“Fine,” Aphrodite sighed, leaving the room rather hurriedly.   
“Would you like to come too? I could use your help.” Artemis looked expectantly at Zoë.   
“Of course, and if you’d like I’ll even wear my ‘mean’ face,” Zoë frowned, earning a laugh from the goddess.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too,” Zoë smiled.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

“Let’s take a break from all this planning of a wedding to decide when we have a ladies’ night,” Persephone decided, rubbing her temples. “Don’t get me wrong it’s fun to an extent but I am dying here.”   
“She’s not even awake anymore,” Athena frowned, looking over at Artemis who was sound asleep on the floor with Zoë’s leg as a pillow.   
“This is rather boring for her,” Zoë explained, “she’s used to more interesting scenarios.”   
“Like hunting,” Persephone nodded in understanding.   
“Fine, fine,” Athena sighed, “but this won’t finish itself.”  
“Then you can plan while we have fun,” Aphrodite grinned.  
“I don’t like it when you smile like that,” Hestia frowned while Phoebe pawed at Persephone’s hair.   
“It’s harmless fun,” Aphrodite promised.  
“How about two weeks from now?” Athena proposed looking at some ridiculous schedule she’d planned out.   
“I don’t care,” Zoë shrugged. “Whenever it is just tell us I guess.”  
“Great,” Athena smiled faintly.   
The other goddesses cleared out of the room leaving Zoë to wake the sleeping person on her leg. “Arty, love, wake up.”  
“Is it over?” Artemis asked, wiping lazily at her eyes. “Are we done talking about color shade variations?”  
“Yeah,” Zoë laughed. “They want a girls’ night or something. I told them to tell us when and we’ll show up.”  
“Oh okay,” Artemis nodded, sitting up and stretching.   
“In the mean time, Hermes dropped off mail not long after you fell asleep.” Zoë collected an envelope from nearby.   
Artemis reached for it and butchered opening it like the last message she’d received. “It’s from Thalia.”   
“Yeah? What’s the occasion?”  
“Thia did it,” Artemis grinned, eyes lighting up happily. “She proposed.”  
“Leah said yes I presume,” Zoë smiled.  
“She did.This is great! It’s like Thia was little just yesterday running around naked and giggling through camp.” Artemis’ expression grew sad. “I wish I could’ve been there to see the looks on their faces. It’d have been priceless I’m sure.”   
“Thia’s got a good family. Thalia lucked out too,” Zoë sighed, “but the way you talk about them makes me wish I’d been there to see everything.”   
“Don’t worry over it,” Artemis frowned. “It’s not your fault you missed things. Frankly, I was lucky to have them. Without them I’d have been-I don’t know. They were my solace without you.”  
“I’m glad,” Zoë promised, “and it just makes me love them more. No matter how much or how little I know them.”  
“Well, we’ll certainly be involved in a second wedding,” Artemis laughed. “Which will give you plenty of bonding time and at least we won’t be planning it.”   
“That is definitely something I can be happy about,” Zoë snickered. “Now, read the letter aloud. I want the details.”   
“A gossip girl are we?” Artemis arched a brow smugly, holding the letter closer to her chest.   
“Don’t make me wrestle you for it. I’ll win,” Zoë assured.   
“I’m stronger than you,” Artemis teased before Zoë pounced.   
— — —  
Time flew by in seconds it seemed and soon enough Artemis and Zoë sat crowded with the other goddesses on Hestia’s small bedroom floor.   
“Nice to see you’re not sleeping,” Athena remarked, sitting beside her sister to examine the group of people. She’d never been keen on these little gatherings but she’d promised to go anyways.  
“Please tell me we aren’t about to act like a bunch of teenage girls,” Persephone looked expectantly at Aphrodite.   
“Please, at the minimum this will be like a-a college party. Casual setting, no big deal, just a group of friends,” The love goddess assured but Persephone wasn’t buying it.   
“I’m not spilling any secrets if that’s what you think,” Athena’s eyes narrowed.   
“Well, I wouldn’t ask you to but now that I know you have secrets please go ahead and share,” Aphrodite tilted her head like a curious little bird.   
“I have none,” Athena growled. “If I had any I’m sure you’d have dug them up already.”  
“Here we go,” Hestia whispered, drawing her knees to her chest.   
“Fine, fine, what about you Persephone?” Aphrodite asked.  
“Well, Hades has been particularly temperamental lately and I think it has to do with Ares,” Persephone pursed her lips. “Something about intestine warfare so his land is crowded with lost souls.”   
“Oh,” Aphrodite winced, “well, that’s not something I can particularly help with.”   
“What? Isn’t he your responsibility?” Athena glowered.   
“I don’t have to take care of anyone but myself,” Aphrodite pursed her lips, “and if we are sharing secrets I guess mine is that Ares and I aren’t quite on speaking terms at the moment.”   
“No kidding,” Athena snorted, “he’s been in my business for far too long and I’m ready to rip his head off.”   
“Don’t blame me for that,” Aphrodite scoffed. “I couldn’t keep him at bay if I wanted to.”  
“Well, whatever it is he’s angry about tell him to leave me alone,” Athena glared.   
“Sister, please.” Artemis warned, sensing the tension in the room grow.   
“What precisely has he done to get you so angry?” The question was one of genuine curiosity but Athena bristled at it.   
“Nothing,” Athena’s jaw clenched and she remained quiet after that.   
“I saw old man Cassius throwing pebbles at the birds,” Hestia noted. “He never hits any of them.”   
“Is he the man that lives by the docks on Montauk?” Persephone asked.  
“Yes, Hestia nodded, “I like to keep an eye on him. It’s almost like watching sports.”  
Artemis couldn’t help but laugh at the image of an old man cursing at seagulls with wide arching throws of stone. Of course Hestia would find some mild amusement in such an absurd scene.   
“Oh, I have a question,” Persephone’s eyes glinted with excitement. “Artemis, you’ve seen more of the world than most of us here. So, after you get married are you going to go somewhere?”  
“I-I don’t know,” Artemis shrugged, sharing a glance with Zoë. “I suppose we could. There’s a nice set of lakes I know of-“  
“Lakes?” Aphrodite’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Why would you go to a set of lakes? Everyone knows what happens after weddings and the idea of fuc-“  
Hestia slapped a hand hurriedly over the goddess’ mouth. Artemis could feel the heat rising in her cheeks but she couldn’t think of a change in topic. Thankfully, Zoë was much better at social settings.   
“We could always stay. I haven’t even seen all of Olympus yet. It’s much bigger than I’d have thought. Every time I think I’ve seen it all something new pops up.” The Hesperide’s remark drew Athena’s attention.   
“That’s due to the design. See, Olympus isn’t entirely surface level. What I mean by that is we don’t just sit on the top of a floating mountain peak. Most of the terrain is actually terraced or layered to supply more space and a seemingly changing environment. It’s both efficient and aesthetically pleasing,” Athena smiled.   
“Before she continues with dreary architecture,” Aphrodite sighed, having batted Hestia’s hand away, “let’s get one thing straight. Are you staying or going? If you stay I’ll be going. From the sound of things the gardens are a dangerous place when you two are together.”   
Groaning, Artemis hid her head in her arms. “I didn’t think agreeing to this would lead to so many remarks.”   
“Please, Artemis, I’m not faulting you. It’s not hard to tell who rules the bedroom. She’s got that look in her eyes,” Aphrodite snorted, gesturing flippantly at Zoë.   
The poor lieutenant sat in utter confusion. “What look? I don’t have a look.”  
“Oh yes you do,” Aphrodite insisted. “Which makes me wonder what exactly you two do. Promise me it isn’t the boring same hand and m-“  
Hestia smacked a hand over Aphrodite’s face again. “I’m not sure that-“  
“Because that is honestly pitiful Artemis,” Aphrodite managed to talk through Hestia’s hand.   
“Oh lord,” Athena looked like she wanted to be anywhere else other than that room.   
“What would you know about-“ Persephone didn’t get to finish her sentence.   
“I know how to please women in the bedroom,” Aphrodite smirked, “it’s not rocket science.”   
“I did not need to know that,” Artemis whimpered, face still hidden. “Can we not talk about this?”  
“I’m just saying it’s not bad to experiment.”   
Artemis made a sound that was similar to a retching cat. Zoë could only laugh and rub the goddess’ back in an attempt to comfort her.   
“This is why I don’t do family get togethers,” Athena stared intently at the floor practically burning a hole into it.   
“She has to enjoy other people’s private lives because she hasn’t gotten any-“ Persephone was suddenly smothered by a cloud of perfume leaving her hacking and coughing, “of her own-in years.”   
“Gods that stuff smells,” Zoë’s eyes watered violently. “What kind of stench is that?”  
“One of my favorite forms of punishment. Temporary skunk musk,” Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed in a perverted sense of joy at Persephone’s wheezing.   
“Personally it’s not that horrific,” Artemis’ voice though muffled was heard by everyone. “You’ve clearly never had to help a horse give birth.”   
“That smells?” Hestia frowned.  
“Let’s say it’s a complicated process,” Zoë winced. She recalled one particularly messy time in winter...well, she’d actually rather not recall it.   
“Oh,” Artemis’ head shot up and turned to Athena.   
“Yes?” The elder girl arched a brow.   
“Did you ever find the old stories we used to terrorize Apollo with?” Artemis smiled for the first time that night. Athena grinned too, and disappeared for a brief moment. She returned with an ancient looking book from stories of eons ago.   
“What’s that?” Persephone’s curiosity got the best of her and she inched closer to Athena.   
“Stories older than any of us. Even our most ancient relatives.” Athena’s voice seemed to drop in tone and her eyes darkened as if she were thinking of six trillion items at once.   
“Why is it relevant?” Aphrodite asked.  
“Because some of you haven’t heard them.” If it’d been Halloween Athena’s odd excitement would have been even more terrifying than it was.  
“Ooooh,” Persephone shivered in anticipation. “Read it.”  
Artemis supposed she wasn’t phased by dark, dreary, and creepy things anymore. Not with Hades for a husband. The idea of a goddess associated with such gentle symbols nestling up for a good old story on chaotic monstrosities, concepts of eternal voids, and more was ironically hysterical.   
— — —  
“That was a bad idea,” Hestia whispered. The group of them were huddled side by side in the dark like a bunch of terrified kids. Even Zoë found the dark a bit unsettling but Artemis was unphased. She kept her lover close despite the lack of space in the small room.   
“Whose hand is that?” Athena hissed.  
“Whose butt is that?” Aphrodite scoffed. “Wait...oh! Gods!”  
“Oh don’t you act like that’s my fault!” Athena growled.  
“Someone’s elbow is in my spine,” Hestia whined.   
“Sorry,” Persephone apologized.   
“Your family is a disaster,” Zoë mumbled.   
“Mmm,” Artemis smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “They say you marry the family too, you know.”   
“Well, at least they mean well,” Zoë smiled. She shifted to shuffle her legs with Artemis’.  
“If you two start getting handsy I’m gonna puke,” Persephone warned.  
Artemis let out a deep sigh and kept a small smile on her face. Only her family would be so out of sorts and chaotic. “One day they will leave us alone.”  
“I don’t think that will happen,” Zoë mused. “But I could get used to harmless fun like this.”   
“I don’t know if it’s harmless so much as embarrassing and pride destroying,” Artemis sighed.   
“What did she mean by my having a certain look in my eyes?” Zoë frowned.  
“I don’t know,” Artemis shrugged carefully. Then, though it surprised Zoë, Artemis spoke through thoughts. ‘They’re all listening.’  
‘I know.’   
‘We could have some fun.’   
‘Like what?’  
“I think, what the Love lady means, is that you’re very good with your hands,” Artemis smirked.   
“Aaaaaawwe no! Stop!” Persephone whined.  
Zoë giggled loudly which sent the others into fits of laughter too. “Gods, I love you.”   
“I love you too,” Artemis promised. “And your hands.”   
“Artemis I swear on my mother’s name if you don’t shut up I will stitch your mouth shut,” Athena sighed, but Artemis could hear the smile in her sister’s voice.   
“Heh,” Artemis laughed, “told you we could have fun.”   
“I didn’t doubt you.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The big day was approaching much faster than either Zoë or Artemis had thought. Things were beginning to fall into place all the while they watched like outsiders. Yes, they helped, but it was strange knowing the big event was for them. That the sweet of others was for them. Truthfully, it left Zoë feeling oddly uncomfortable by it. She was used to working for things she wanted. Not having them done for her by other people.   
“You two need to relax,” Apollo grinned, slinging an arm about each girl.   
“I’m relaxed,” Zoë growled.   
“Very,” Artemis agreed.   
“Uh huh,” Apollo snorted, “you’re both horrible at lying. Why so tense? Everything’s going smoothly with Athena and Hera pulling the reigns. Nothing else to fret over.”  
“Until everything is finished there’s definitely room for things to go wrong,” Zoë spared Apollo a heated glance.  
“Alright,” Apollo sighed, “if you want to be tense and miserable fine by me. But I happen to know that Uncle is leaving his pool open for use.”  
“Salt water?” Artemis asked.  
“Nope, just heated, relaxing, and soothing water,” Apollo grinned. “See you there?”  
“Maybe,” Artemis shrugged off his arm watching as Hermes scrambled about placing things in order as quickly as possible. Apollo left the two alone and ventured off in search of the sacred large hot tub.   
“We aren’t actually joining him are we?” Zoë asked. Tearing her eyes away from Hermes’ shenanigans Artemis studied the girl beside her. Zoë stood with straight shoulders, a raised chin, arms steady at the side, face pensive, and spine rigid.   
“Perhaps we should,” Artemis shrugged. Though Zoë would deny it, the Hesperide was indeed tense. Taking Zoë’s hand, Artemis worked slowly with her towards her Uncle’s spare chamber. The interior was always changing and like Apollo said, today’s design was a large pool with the slightest bit of steam hovering over the surface.   
“Is this how he cooks lobsters?” Zoë arched a brow, eyeing the water wearily.   
“Nope!” Apollo called from where he rested floating on his back. “Unless I’m a lobster.”   
“You will be,” Artemis smirked, jumping into the water and on top of her brother. He squealed like a pig before disappearing beneath the surface.  
“Rude!” The sun god spluttered having reappeared a few feet away from a laughing Artemis.  
“You screamed!” Artemis wheezed. “So loud. It was like a pig.”   
“Ha Ha,” Apollo glowered. Crossing his arms to pout Artemis gave a playful splash. Slowly, Apollo recovered from his humiliation and retaliated. The two siblings went to war for some time before Apollo grew bored.   
“Care to join?” Artemis asked, swimming to the side and offering Zoë her hand.   
“I don’t know-“  
As soon as Zoë was within reach Artemis tugged her lieutenant in with a sly smile. Zoë resurfaced with a frown on her face looking like a displeased puppy. Still smiling, Artemis wiped away the water still clinging to the hesperide’s face. “Not so bad is it?”  
“...no,” Zoë admitted.  
“Told you,” Artemis laughed. “Now come on. We can torment my brother all we want.”   
“I don’t think that’s how I’m supposed to bond with your family,” Zoë snorted.  
“Didn’t anyone tell you that’s how it works? You make people miserable until they like you,” Artemis mused, eyeing Apollo who floated by on his back.   
“I heard that,” Apollo grumbled, opening an eye to study his sister.   
“What’re you going to do about it?” Artemis teased. She didn’t expect Apollo to grab her about the waist and chuck her in the air like mortal dads did with their kids.   
“I’m going to do that,” Apollo smirked, settling his hands on his hips.   
“Do it again,” Artemis gasped, swimming over quickly. “That was awesome.”   
“Don’t break her,” Zoë sighed, as Apollo went to launch his sister again.   
Watching the two laugh and play only made Zoë more amazed by how childish Artemis could be. Not in an annoying way but in an endearing way. It was a hint of who she used to be. The girl who found joy in small things and laughed like the world wasn’t watching. The girl who hadn’t been hurt by the rest of the world.   
It was rare to see such a thing from the Moon goddess. Even for Apollo, Zoë was sure of it. Seeing someone so poised and reserved laughing in pure joy was far and few between. Seeing Artemis play and enjoy life was something Zoë wanted to see and watch forever.   
“Why the long face?” Suddenly, Artemis was in front of the Hesperide with her arms wrapped snugly about Zoë’s neck. “You’re not still worried are you? Like Apollo said, everything’s going fine for now. We can take the small victory.”   
“I know,” Zoë smiled, brushing away wet strands of hair from her lover’s face. “I was just watching you. You’re beautiful when you’re playing.”   
“Oh,” Artemis blushed. “I thought it was annoying you.”   
“Never,” Zoë promised. “Your being happy will never annoy me no matter what ridiculous thing brings you joy. Whether it’s a caterpillar or your brother tossing you about a pool.”   
“That’s so sweet,” Apollo sighed. Zoë hadn’t realized he was sitting on the edge of the pool right beside her. “I wish someone would say things like that to me. Only mother ever did.”   
“Perhaps,” Zoë pursed her lips, “you haven’t listened to the people jay do tell you those things?”  
“What do you mean?” Apollo frowned.  
“Sometimes people say things we choose not to hear because we’re sure no one will ever say them,” the hesperide explained.   
“That was beautiful,” Apollo sniffled. “Artemis, how can you marry someone better at poetry than I am? That’s not fair!”  
Artemis only shrugged at her brother though it was clear she was rather smug about his complaint. “Maybe she could teach you.”   
“Blasphemy. From my sister?” Apollo scoffed, feigning offense.   
“He’s so dramatic,” the huntress whispered.   
“You’re only now discovering that?” Zoë smiled.   
— — —  
“If you could do anything in the world what would it be?” Artemis asked. It’d been two days since the pool extravaganza and frankly she and Zoë were more relaxed than ever before. Somehow a burden had vanished and Apollo had been right. Things were going to be okay and all was going well.   
“I would go all the around the world,” Zoë decided.   
“We’ve nearly done that,” Artemis mused.   
“Not without hunting monsters and worrying over things,” Zoë explained. Outside she could hear the last girls awake say goodnight to one another. Lately, much to their relief, the monster world had calmed. It allowed a more relaxed camp environment not to mention it made going to Olympus much less worrying. The camp would be in safe hands and the threats that the girls faced were everything short of challenging.   
“Okay, I like that idea,” Artemis decided.   
“If you could live a day as any mortal who would it be and why?” Zoë wondered.   
“This may sound odd but I’d pick Sally Jackson. She seems to have a nice life granted her son is a handful,” Artemis laughed.  
“To say the least!” Zoë snickered.  
“But she’s strong willed, has a good husband, a nice home, and a low profile,” Artemis continued. “It would be nice to see and understand that perspective.”  
“I would have thought you’d pick a hot celebrity.”  
“Like who?” Artemis scoffed.  
“Gal Gadot,” Zoë decided, having discovered the famous actress’ role as Wonder Woman not long ago. She found it very superbly played.   
“Oh I see,” Artemis snorted, “you fancy a fake female warrior child of Zeus.”  
“That’s not it at all!” Zoë frowned, “I merely admire her.”  
“I’m only teasing,” Artemis smiled. “She is stunning, but I prefer Hesperides. Well, ones names Zoë to be precise.”   
“Hmm, wonder who she is?”   
Artemis couldn’t help but laugh at her lieutenant who was both so serious and so dorky at the same time. “You never cease to surprise me.”  
“Do you forget I can be funny?” Zoë asked.   
“No, but there’s times your humor catches me off guard in the most pleasant ways,” Artemis insisted, kissing Zoë upon the brow.   
“Good. I love it when you laugh,” Zoë smiled, kissing the goddess softly. “But your smile is a close first.”  
“Really?”   
“Yes,” Zoë nodded, “and the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh. Or, better yet, how your eyes squint.”   
“You’re a flirt!” Artemis giggled.   
“Well, only sometimes.”  
“Sometimes? Lies!” The goddess joked.   
“I’d never lie to you,” Zoë insisted.   
“No, but you’d lie with me,” Artemis noted.  
“Now who is the flirt?”   
— — —  
“Athena,” Artemis laughed, “stop fawning over the flowers. They’re fine. You’ve fixed the same one seven times.”   
“They keep shifting,” the other goddess frowned.  
“And they will again,” Artemis mused, “there’s still time. You’re lucky they’re enchanted to last so long.”   
“Thank Hecate for that,” Athena sighed, glancing over her clip board. “What are you doing here anyways? I thought you’d be with Zoë.”  
“Well, if you knew your schedule-“ Artemis teased only to earn a glare,”-she’s getting fitted. Somehow handling the chaos of my brother and Aphrodite and countless other fashion fanatics.”  
“Shouldn’t you be there to wrangle them in?” Athena worried.   
“Don’t worry my turn is next. But I wanted to be surprised so there’s no help from me. Not until it’s too late anyways,” Artemis smiled.   
“You have a lot of faith in us,” Athena noted.  
“In some of you,” Artemis corrected. “For instance, I have a lot of faith in you because I can trust you. I’ve trusted you my whole life.”  
“I know, and I’m grateful for that,” Athena promised. “I just want this to go well for you. You deserve it. If someone should have a perfect wedding that’s bound to last-it’s you.”  
“Haven’t you ever wanted something like this?” Artemis wondered.   
“I-I don’t know,” Athena stuttered. “I’ve never thought of it, but I don’t think I could. And don’t tell me it’s because I need the right person to come my way-“  
“I’m not Aphrodite,” Artemis smiled sympathetically. “I never believed in that junk either. Sometimes when love is unexpected it’s the kind that’s meant to last.”  
“Can I tell you something?” Athena frowned.   
“Of course,” Artemis nodded.   
“When I found out that I was going to have a younger sister like you-“ Athena swallowed hard, “I hated you.”  
“Athena-“  
“Before I knew you. I didn’t want someone else like me running around, someone under foot I couldn’t tolerate, or someone else being better than me.” The goddess of wisdom tried desperately to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. “I prayed that on your way here you wouldn’t arrive. That something bad would happen to you because I thought life would be easier for everyone that way. That there wouldn’t be another ring fighting for attention, creating new family feuds, making poor decisions, or destroying the fragile peace we had.”  
“A wise suspicion to have,” Artemis nodded.  
“I promised to despise you the moment you arrived but you lingered. You followed me, watched me with big silver eyes, and no one had ever looked at me the way you did.” Athena wiped hurriedly at her cheeks. “It’s like I was the entire world to you. That I held everything you ever wanted to know. Somehow someone valued my knowledge like I wasn’t some stuck up princess that wanted attention. You were the first thing I loved before I even loved myself or any mortal.”  
“You were the third thing I loved,” Artemis whispered, “after my brother and my mother. But you were the first part of home that I loved.”  
“I don’t know why I’m crying like an idiot. Or why I even felt I needed to share that-I just felt guilty...” For once in her existence Athena was at a loss. No amount of knowledge would give her the proper words to speak.   
“It’s okay,” Artemis promised, pulling her sister into a tight hug. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”  
“Thank you,” Athena sighed, glad she was no longer making herself look like a fool by blabbering none sense. “You know...speaking of your mother-I talked to father for you.”  
“You did?” Artemis perked up.   
“He’s willing to allow it as long as she doesn’t pick any fights,” Athena chuckled, drying her eyes with care.  
“My mother picking fights?” Artemis scoffed, “of course she would. Who does he think birthed me?”  
Athena’s smile widened and she was reminded of the quirky little girl that followed her around all those centuries ago. “Perhaps it was a tree?”   
“Between you and me, He’d believe it,” Artemis whispered.   
“Oh you’ve gone and made her cry,” Poseidon sighed, standing with crossed arms. Athena straightened and glared at the other man. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work. The future bride is supposed to weep and have the existential crisis.”  
“I’ve had plenty thank you very much,” Artemis breathed, looking at the ground sheepishly.   
“I was told to retrieve you. Your brother is quite bossy you know,” Poseidon noted, stroking his beard. “Actually, everyone pretty bossy. Hera, Apollo, Aphrodite, this one.”   
“I have a name,” Athena glared.  
“Easy,” Artemis warned, glancing in her sister’s direction. “Alright, show me where to go Uncle. They made a point of keeping things secretive.”   
Chuckling, Poseidon left with his niece in tow.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Adult content included. Also this is long.  
And please read the chapter notes.   
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The day had finally come and Artemis was nervous. She didn’t really need to be. Things were fine, in order, under way, and Athena had made sure of it. The last week building up to the event had been relatively uneventful. Sure, the wedding had approached much faster than most did but there were dozens of hands helping the process along. Each person brought something to the table whether it be floral designs, music, beverages, food, seating designs, and more.   
Frankly, Artemis was surprised nothing had exploded or caused the whole plan to die before it was fully conceived. Still, her heart hammered a little too fast, her palms were sweaty, and she could hardly keep an even breathing rate.   
What worried her the most, as foolish as it was, resided in the fact that Zoë wasn’t with her. She was elsewhere getting ready and pampered by overly zealous people. Yet the lack of presence left Artemis anxious. For all she knew this was some elaborate joke. That or something had gone horribly wrong and they refused to tell her.   
“Stop getting yourself all worked up,” Persephone huffed.   
“I can’t help it,” Artemis hissed.   
“Well, try.” Persephone frowned at her companion as she attempted to wrestle with Artemis’ hair.   
“Can you at least get my sister?” Artemis pleaded. “Please?”  
“Fine,” Persephone sighed, abandoning her post to collect Athena. The goddess returned with Athena in tow before leaving the two siblings alone.   
“What is it?” Athena worried. “‘sephone said you were worried. There’s nothing to worry over.”   
“At least tell me everything’s going alright,” Artemis sighed, biting anxiously at her thumb nail. “That Zoë’s doing okay. She hates flattery and I don’t want her being uncomfortable or-“  
“She’ll be fine,” Athena promised. “Here, I know what’ll fix you up.”   
“Where are you going?” Artemis asked.   
“Patience,” Athena smiled kindly, walking out on her sister.   
Persephone hesitantly re-entered the scene and set to work once more. She’d nearly completed the intricate design when Athena returned. “If Apollo needs my help tell him I’ll be there soon.”   
“It’s alright,” Athena promised, “I just thought Artemis would like to meet someone.”   
Athena stepped aside with a smug smile to reveal someone Artemis hadn’t seen in decades. Leto, her mother, looked curiously about the odd partition of Apollo’s room until she spotted her daughter.   
“Mom!” Artemis beamed, sprinting over and enveloping the woman in a tight hug. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”   
“Someone named Hermes found me,” Leto explained, “he said he’d been trying to reach me. Only I was away everytime he tried. Then, come to find out, you’re getting married?! Truly I thought it’d be your brother not you.”   
“What can I say? I’m not exactly predictable,” Artemis laughed.   
“So who is it? Tell me it’s Zoë. The one I met all those years ago. She was perfect for you I swear it,” Leto pleaded.   
“It is,” Artemis nodded, “and I can’t believe you remembered her.”  
“Of course I would,” Leto scoffed, “I’m your mother. But how is she here? The last time I was with you she’d passed on...”  
“It’s a long story,” Artemis snickered, “I’ll tell you while Persephone finishes making me less ugly.”   
“You’re not ugly,” Leto frowned. “You’re beautiful.”   
— — —  
“Mommy!” Apollo shrieked, barging into the room Artemis was getting ready in. Leto was attacked by Apollo in a flying koala hug. “I missed you. Why don’t you come and stay forever? Everyone’s so mean here. They don’t like my poems or my music.”   
“Darling,” Leto smiled, “You’re strangling me.”   
“Sorry,” Apollo immediately let go.   
“It’s good to see you too. My you’re so big. The last time I saw you you were only a baby boy.”  
“You look the same,” Apollo smiled, and his skin seemed to glow with happiness.   
“Have you been taking care of your sister?” Leto asked, running a gentle hand through her son’s hair.  
“Yes,” Apollo nodded excitedly, “and I’m-I’m proud of her. She’s brilliant mom. I can’t believe it.”  
“I know,” Leto nodded, wrapping an arm around her son’s shoulders. The two stood watching the pride and joy of their lives transform into a truly gorgeous goddess at the hands of Persephone.   
But Artemis wasn’t wearing the traditional dress. They simply weren’t for her. Instead, her attire was modeled after the old chitons she would wear. The shoulder pieces were made of a delicate fabric woven with silver to create an elegant feathered wing. Each silver wing crossed down to meet nearly in the middle of her back. The ends didn’t quite touch but the design was intended. The overlapping of the wings would hide details and ruin its elegancy.  
The upper portion of the chiton resembled that of armor. Apollo could only think that Artemis was the epitome of a huntress. Both one to hold people at the end of a blade and one to capture smitten hearts. However, the design of the lower half was plaited like that of an armor skirt worn in battle. Somehow it seemed fitting. Artemis was both valiant, brave, strong, hardy, but she was also feminine, gentle, delicate, good natured, and beautiful. The combination was effective.   
“Nearly done,” Persephone called. The goddess added a small silver circlet to the top of Artemis’ head completing the look. “There. Perfect.”  
“Thank you,” Artemis sighed, glad she no longer had to stand so still.   
“You look stunning,” Leto breathed, captivated by her daughter’s appearance.   
“You think so?” Artemis stammered, blushing beneath the proud look of her mother and brother.   
“Well-“ Apollo started only to receive a playful glare from his sister. “I’m kidding! I swear!”   
“Finished up in here?” Athena asked, poking her head into the room.   
“Yes,” Persephone nodded.   
“Great, come on Arty.” Athena beckoned her sister over. Settling a hand on Artemis’ shoulder the eldest girl guided her sister down the hallway. “Okay, remember that you’re going to be okay. Don’t feel embarrassed or overwhelmed. This is your day alright? When you feel like you can’t handle everyone watching just find me. I’ll help you out.”   
“I know,” Artemis breathed. “I’ll be okay, and if not I’ll figure it out.”   
“Good,” Athena grinned. “Now, Dad’s waiting for you.”   
“Is-is anyone walking Zoë?” Artemis questioned.   
“I-I don’t think so,” Athena pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Arty.”   
“It’s okay, I just thought that maybe someone-ah, nevermind,” Artemis shook her head in defeat. With one last apologetic look, Athena let Artemis wander off to find their father.   
— — —  
“Ready?” Zeus asked.  
“Yep.”   
“Sure?”  
“Uh huh,” Artemis nodded, rocking back on her heels. “So....ever done this before?”   
“Not quite,” Zeus shook his head. “Your sister Thalia decided against it.”   
“Mmm,” Artemis nodded. “Well, first time for everything right?”   
“Right.”   
“This is going to be rough isn’t it?”   
“Considering I have little coordination? Yes.” Zeus smirked. Unfortunately for them they had little practice matching their strides before music picked up. It was the classic drawl of a tune that Artemis hated.   
Rounding the corner she practically held her breath and tried desperately not to focus on all the people who’d turned to look at her. She spotted a few familiar faces and seeing Thalia give her a small wave helped relax the goddess’ nerves. Though walking beside Zeus was indeed a challenge. He nearly bumped into her on every stride due to his broad shoulders.   
Already, Artemis felt out of place but she kept herself in check. There was nothing to be upset over-except for the god awful music. Sadly, it was tradition.   
Only when she reached the altar area did it dawn on her how awkward things were. She was standing there alone with a room full of people gawking. Half of Artemis wanted to shuffle her feet or bounce her leg to release nervous energy, and the other part wanted to incessantly crack her knuckles in hopes it’d be less noticeable. Neither would go unnoticed. She was sure of that.   
Years seemed to pass before anything else happened and soon Artemis understood why. Expecting Zoë to arrive alone, the goddess was surprised to see her brother escorting the Hesperide down the iasle. Catching his sister’s eye Apollo winked.   
Smiling from ear to ear Artemis had to remind herself she couldn’t run forward and hug him. Then, she got a proper look at Zoë and her knees went weak. Yes, Zoë was gorgeous, stunning even, and it was a day to day occurrence where Artemis was floored by her beauty. Today, however, was something very different.   
There were no words to describe the feelings bubbling up in her chest. At best it could be described as a pleasant sort of warmth that flooded her whole body. In front of her was someone who had every right to be a goddess where others did not. How her dark hair was plaited in an intricate style Artemis hadn’t seen before, how her skin seemed to glow, or the way Zoë’s outfit coordinated with Artemis’ in that regal flowing armor. Frankly, Artemis would have stared at the lieutenant all day. She wished she could but time was short.   
All too soon, but all too slow, Zoë was in front of her. The goddess’ breath hitched as she took in her lover’s appearance up close. The hesperide’s eyes were sparkling, her lips were posed in a gentle smile, and her features were breathtakingly highlighted.   
“Thought your brother would’ve tripped,” Zoë whispered, ignoring the words of Hera who was officiating the wedding. Artemis nearly failed to stifle a laugh.   
“My father almost tripped me,” the goddess smiled.   
“He is much taller you know,” Zoë mused.   
“I do,” Artemis laughed faintly. “You look beautiful.”   
“You too,” Zoë promised, taking the goddess’ hands in her own. It was the best she could do for the moment even if she wanted to kiss Artemis. Silence settled between them but it wasn’t awkward anymore and for once Artemis didn’t feel like she was being watched.   
At some point along the way, Artemis heard the indication that vows were to be read or spoken. For the briefest moment she panicked. Why would she want everyone hearing what she had to say? But a gentle pressure to her hands grounded her. Only Zoë needed to hear. The others could complain but she didn’t care. Only one person mattered at the moment and it was the woman across from her.   
“I didn’t plant this in advance because I was afraid it’d sound like it came out of a box,” Artemis blushed, “so if it goes south you’ll know why. Anyways, I would vow to hold you, care for you, and stay with you but we both know that I’d do such a thing already. Whether you were my friend or lover I’d always take care of you. But there are things I want you to know.”  
“You’re shaking,” Zoë noted, running her thumbs over Artemis’ knuckles but the goddess didn’t hear her.   
“I would hold up the sky for you. Any day for as long as I could and I’ve done it before. If you asked me to do it again I wouldn’t hesitate to. You could ask me to do anything and I’d do it. Which scares me, it does, because there’s so many things that I could do-dangerous things, but you’d never ask that of me. But if it’s so much as making a bed, making lunch, setting up camp, or putting out a fire I’d do it. I’d do it because you’d ask me to and I would be happy doing it.” Though she tried not to, Artemis couldn’t keep the tears that stung her eyes from falling. “There won’t ever be a day where you question if I love you, if I’m angry at you, or disappointed, or dissatisfied because I could never do anything but love you. At the end of every day, at the start of every day, and at the end of time I’ll choose you. Always you. You’re the only constant I’ve ever had. Even when you were gone I still had you one way or another. So I promise I’m not going to be anything but what you need me to be and there’s nothing that would keep me from loving you. Even if you hated me.”  
For a moment Zoë couldn’t do anything. She knew it was her turn to speak but the lump in her throat made it impossible. So, to buy time, she wiped gently at the crystallized tears on Artemis’ pale cheeks. What her lover had said was far from a formulated box cut reading of vows. It was enough to make Zoë feel like she would combust with love for the other woman.   
“You had to make it hard to follow up,” Zoë teased, buying herself a bit of time to try and compose herself.   
“Sorry,” Artemis laughed.   
“Well, I didn’t plan this either. I guess we’ve always flown on hope that the winds will take us where we need to go. Guess that’s what made us meet to begin with. Truthfully, I don’t know what type of person I’d be without you. People say one decision can change your whole life and my decision was helping a wounded little bird who happened to be a curious young girl. A girl who I couldn’t help but fall in love with. Someone adventurous, kind, compassionate, sincere, honest, humble, and all of the things I had never known in my life. You showed them to me. I’ll always be grateful for that and I’ll fight every day to make sure you don’t lose yourself in this mess of a world. You give so much of yourself up for other people and the truth is-heroes need heroes too. I promise to be that for you. Maybe I can’t hold up a sky, but I’ll dry your tears, keep you warm, listen to you always, and never leave you feeling unwanted. In all honesty the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted in life is you. The same beautiful girl I met so long ago. Whose smile makes the stars look dull in comparison. You’re mine from now until the universe gives its last breath. I’ll never abandon you. No matter what. I’m not going to make the same mistake people did with me because you deserve better than that. You deserve everything that this world has to offer. You always have and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” Zoë sighed, searching for some sign she’d messed up in her vows. She only found Artemis crying more and struggled to keep her own composure. Every ounce of her wanted to hold the poor girl but she refrained.   
Once again, Hera continued on but neither girl was listening. They were too wrapped up in each other to care about anything else. Not until Zoë was finally allowed to kiss her patron. Well-Wife. That was it now wasn’t it? No lieutenant anymore and no patron. Just, wife. Wives.   
Though there were no rings upon Artemis’ insistence. (Athena had objected but figured Artemis was right in her worry they’d lose them in some foreign country) the two finally embraced. Part of Artemis didn’t want to pull away from the hold she had on Zoë. The warm familiar hug and the careful caress of lips were nearly too much for her.   
Applause was all that interrupted the tender moment. Then the dread that came with dancing. Seeing the worry in Artemis’ eyes, Zoë whispered tiny reassurances. All Arty had to do was dance with her father. They’d allowed the couple to keep their first dance for themselves. But considering Zeus’ struggle to even walk, Artemis was certain she’d be turned into mince meat.   
— — —  
Surviving the ordeal, Artemis was free to avoid dancing with her father ever again. He’d tried, he really had, but it was uncomfortable. He was stiff, unsure, jerky, and frankly iron like. Still, Artemis thanked him sincerely.   
“Dad’s not a good dancer is he?” Thalia asked knowing full well what the answer was. She caught Artemis slinking out of sight to avoid other dances.   
“Horrible really. Two left feet,” Artemis sighed, taking in her baby sister’s appearance. Thalia always cleaned up nicely.   
“Poor guy,” Thalia snorted but she had little sympathy for him. Artemis felt like explaining he’d changed but that was between Thalia and Zeus. She didn’t pretend to know all that existed between them.   
“Is your brother here?” Artemis asked, looking around expectantly.   
“Yep,” Thalia nodded before pointing over at a tall blonde with glasses. “Thankfully he’s tall because it makes him easy to find.”   
“How’re his kids?”   
“Great! Jaxon and Maria are married,” Thalia smiled faintly, “Andy and Sol too. Eli is still a single Pringle but we love him and so is Grey. Which means Thia is the last of her cousins to settle down.”  
“Is she here?” Artemis asked hopefully.   
“Somewhere doing who knows what. I swear she and the other kids are still twelve years old doing stupid games,” Thalia snorted. As if on cue, Jaxon went racing by with Thia and Eli hot on his tail. The trio was laughing and smiling without a care in the world. “Whatever you stole from Maria don’t lose it!”  
“They didn’t steal from Maria they stole from me!” Percy cried, running after them. “That was my cupcake! It was blue!!”  
“And there goes my wife,” Thalia mused.   
“I’m gonna kill them,” Reyna frowned, with frosting smeared on her cheeks.   
“But you look cute,” Thalia smiled.   
“You missed the opportunity to say sweet,” Zoë piped up, having followed the commotion to find Artemis once more.   
“Don’t go making puns like Apollo,” Artemis pouted playfully. “Which reminds me, where is he?”  
“Apparently he, Hermes, Poseidon, and Hades have formulated a band and are going to be handling music the rest of the evening,” Zoë informed.   
“Can they even play instruments?” Reyna wondered, having snagged a napkin to wipe the frosting off of her face with Thalia’s help.  
“Guess we’ll find out won’t we?” Artemis smirked. “So who else from you mighty hero gang showed?”  
“Uhm, well obviously Piper and Jason, Hazel did but Frank opted out to help keep track of things at home,” Reyna explained.   
“Frank’s always sweet,” Artemis noted. He was one of her favorites though she’d never truly met him except on brief passing.   
“Yeah, and then Leo is here with Calypso-“  
“Caly?” The mention of her sister drew Zoë’s attention in an instant. “Where?”  
“Back that way I think?” Thalia shrugged and pointed off to the far left. Zoë was gone in an instant weaving through people and ignoring all they had to say simply because she wanted to see her sister.   
Sure enough, Calypso stood off to the side with an impish looking man wearing a wide grin. At first, Zoë thought of waiting until the conversation died until Calypso spotted her too. The way those fair features brightened was heart warming.   
One moment Calypso was across the way and the next the sisters were holding each other in a breath stealing hug. “I was meaning to find you Zo.”  
“I know,” Zoë breathed. “I didn’t know you’d come. I didn’t even know you were here in New York. Thalia told me briefly about Leo and Sol. I’m happy for you.”   
“There’s so much to talk about but there’s people and-“  
“They can wait. You’re my sister,” Zoë insisted. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re gorgeous and-I just can’t believe it. I mean look at you!”  
Leo watched as the two girls engaged in a conversation so animated and excited it was hard not to be happy for them. He knew Calypso missed her sisters and the moment they’d heard of the wedding she hadn’t talked of anything else other than seeing Zoë  
— — —  
“You can mingle mother,” Artemis mused, noticing how awkward Leto was around the others. Olympus wasn’t her home and she was very aware of it.   
“I’ll watch from afar,” She replied.   
“If you insist,” Artemis smiled, “but you could talk to my sister. She’s nice.“  
“Athena, was it?”  
“Mhm,” Artemis nodded. “You’ll like her I promise. She’s sweet and curious. If anything she’ll ask a bunch of questions you probably can’t answer.”  
“I’ve met her briefly a few times,” Leto sighed, before seeing her daughter’s puppy dog eyes. “Oh alright. Now, don’t look at me like that.”   
“I did learn a few things from Apollo,” Artemis replied innocently. She gave her mother an encouraging nod and watched her disappear into the crowd. Artemis was keen on making sure her mother had a fun time. The woman had spent so much of her life alone it was no wonder socializing made her nervous.   
Smiling to herself, Artemis studied the scenery with care. Music was playing softly in the background and Apollo was singing some slow tune on a low rise stage. He was in his element, snapping to the tune, swaying slightly at the hips, taking an occasional step, and singing with his eyes as much as his voice.   
Those dancing were in various pairs of well coordinated individuals or pairs of those who could only sway. Either way, it was charming. Artemis spotted Hades treating Hestia to a dance having taken a break from playing music. He was very careful in his touch, moving smooth like a shadow, and the two were surprisingly good at dancing. It was incredible to watch how they twirled about. Meanwhile, Persephone stood watching with a wide smile, hands clasped in front of herself, laughing in delight at the two gods. Across the way Aphrodite had coaxed Ares into dancing but the soldier was stiff like Zeus. It was amusing to see him so uncomfortable, but Aphrodite gave no inclination that she was upset at his lack of ability to match a beat with his feet.   
People danced for long hours until tired limbs begged them to stop. There was no way of telling how much time had passed but Artemis supposed it had been a long while because the numbers began to dwindle.   
With the crowd thinning she managed to identify even more familiar faces, give a small smile, a tiny wave, or a little nod as the trickled out. Night had approached silently and gently leaving stars in place of the sun.   
Only about three dozen people remained. Maria was one of them. She was sitting on the edge of the stage talking with Andy who seemed close to passing out. Thia was sprawled out like a starfish on the ground with Jaxon as a pillow.   
Soon enough all of the kids were in one giant puddle of limbs sound asleep on the floor like they were little all over again. Artemis watched as each parent gently woke them and removed them from the mess of people. It was quite comical in all honesty.   
“Somethings don’t change do they?” Percy sighed, stepping up to stand beside the goddess. “If it isn’t me drooling it’s Maria.”   
“You drool?”   
“When I sleep,” Percy nodded. “Guess it’s hereditary.”   
“That’s extremely unfortunate,” Artemis snorted.   
“Yeah, well, I just wanted to say hi and that I’m glad you got Zoë back. Still kind of ate me up with what happened. You know being a kid and all it was hard not to internalize responsibility for what happened. But I know now that it wasn’t my fault or anyone’s really,” Percy pressed his lips into a thin line. “Guess I’m saying-I’m glad there’s people who still get second chances. In a world like this there should be more of them.”   
“Thank you,” Artemis smiled faintly, “though I had my doubts about you I can say you’ve become quite a brilliant man.”  
This time it was Percy’s turn to laugh. “Thanks, glad I’m not on your bad side.”   
“Perseus Jackson.”   
Percy tensed before a strong hand smacked him on the back of the head. “That’s for making dam jokes without me.”   
“Good to see you too,” Percy winced, smiling lopsidedly at Zoë who’s managed to ambush him. “Who told you about my jokes?”  
“You’re friends.”   
“It’s okay none of them got it,” Percy assured, “but you hadn’t either when we were there. So please tell me you understand why it’s funny now. Because if no ones told you I’m going to be thoroughly disappointed.”   
“The underworld caught me up on modem cursing. I get why it’s funny,” Zoë promised.  
“Great,” Percy laughed, “because I didn’t want to explain anymore dam jokes to you.”   
Zoë smiled at the attempt of a joke and offered one of her own, “not your dam problem anymore then?”  
“Nope,” Percy snickered clearly satisfied with this turn of events. “My life is now complete.”   
“You’re welcome.”   
“Well, I actually got to get going,” Percy sighed, “but it was good seeing you not dead you know?”   
“Likewise,” Zoë mused. Percy lingered for a moment resembling his old awkward teenage self before scampering off.   
“Seems the party’s over,” Artemis noted. Her brother was cleaning things up and her mother was complimenting him on his playing. “I wish she could stay.”   
“I know,” Zoë sighed, taking Artemis’ hand in her own. “You can go say goodnight. Take all the time you need. I have to say bye to my sister.”   
The two parted ways for their goodbyes. Artemis approached her mother cautiously for fear that their interaction would only cause her to leave sooner. “Seems things have come to an end.”   
“So it does,” Leto nodded, studying her children. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to but this moment in time has been the blessing I never thought I’d get to have. Seeing both of you so happy, so free, and so loved is amazing. You’re my pride and joy. Both of you.”   
“You really mean that?” Apollo croaked.   
“Of course,” Leto smiled tiredly. “You’re an amazing man and you are a beautiful girl. Both of you are far stronger than I ever would have guessed. I’m proud you take care of each other, that you fight for gay you want, for what’s right, and I couldn’t ask for better children.”   
“We love you,” Artemis promised, taking her brother’s hand.   
“More than you know,” Apollo agreed, swallowing tightly.   
“I believe I do,” Leto mused, kissing each on the forehead. “And I love you to. From the sun to the moon and all that’s in between.”   
The small family shared a tight hug that no one wanted to end but Leto’s departure was inevitable. Both twins lingered for a moment in her absence taking comfort in each other’s presence.   
“Night sis,” Apollo smiled.   
“Night,” Artemis gave him a gentle hug. “Thank you for walking her down the iasle.”  
“Of course. She’s family now,” Apollo shrugged. The blonde gave a small bow as Zoë rejoined Artemis before striding off towards his chambers.   
— — —  
“How about that dance?” Zoë asked, once the two lovers had found their way into Artemis’ familiar room.   
“One moment,” Artemis smiled. She collected the old present Apollo had given her and turned it on. The old record player gave a hum before soft music filled the empty air. No record set rotating in place because there was no need for one if the device was enchanted to play whatever Artemis desired. “Now, we can dance.”   
Taking the goddess’ hands, Zoë found it surprisingly easy to match the rhythm and pace of the music. She guessed it wasn’t so bad when you were dancing with someone who knew what they were doing. Sighing, the Hesperide relaxed and the pace slowed to that of a slight sway.  
Closing her eyes, Artemis nestled her face into the crook of Zoë’s neck enjoying the peace in the moment. Humming lightly to the tune, Zoë traced the crescent of Artemis’ shoulder blade with the faint brush of fingertips. She was aware of the warm breath ghosting across her skin and the chill it caused to race down her spine.   
She finally had all she ever wanted right there in front of her. So close she could feel the gentle thrum of Artemis’ heart. It was pure and enticing all at once. A feeling that would never grow old.   
As they continued to move slowly from foot to foot Artemis found herself enveloped in the familiar scent of her lover. The one she was so afraid to loose all those years ago. A heavy sigh was followed by a deep intake of breath. Sighing once more in contentment, Artemis left a light kiss on Zoë’s shoulder. Her gesture drew a soft fluttery laugh from the Hesperide that mirrored the fluttering of her heart.   
With a gentle touch, Zoë guided Artemis’ face away from her shoulder and neck. She stared intently at those beautiful silver eyes trying to memorize the very slightest shift in color.   
Fingers playing with loose strands of Artemis’ hair she settled her forehead upon her goddess’ captivated by the serenity of the moment. By now they’d forgotten to dance.   
Warm breath mixed together momentarily before the most timid of kisses killed the space between them. Gentle, slow, enticing, and warm neither wished to part until it was a necessity. Slight smiles were exchanged as their lips found one another once more.   
Zoë’s arms wrapped snugly about the goddess drawing her near. Artemis’ proximity brought with it a calming pressure and warmth. It was just the two of them now. No worries in the world for as long as they could help it.   
“Can I have you?” Zoë whispered, their noses touching in brief passing. “For tonight?”  
“You don’t have to ask anymore. You’ve never had to,” Artemis sighed, settling a hand lightly upon Zoë’s cheek and letting her thumb wander over soft skin.   
“No,” Zoë smiled, “I mean as our first time.”   
“This isn’t-“  
“The first time, I know.” Zoë looked fondly at the goddess stuck in slight confusion. “But for the first time I’m truly yours, for the first time we have an eternity to make this last, and for the first time I’m not afraid of losing you. So I want to know-do you want the first night? Or may I have it?”   
“You can have it,” Artemis stammered, understanding the implications. “You always do.”   
“Sometimes you surprise me,” Zoë grinned, “and I wouldn’t want to take something you’re afraid to ask for.”   
“You have ways of offering,” Artemis reminded.   
“I wanted to do it properly this time,” Zoë explained. “Not in the heat of the moment.”   
“Then I politely decline,” Artemis laughed, kissing her lover’s cheek, jaw, and then giving a very light tug to Zoë’s ear. It was a gesture usually reserved for Artemis herself but the expression on Zoë’s face was both astounded and alight with desire.   
Tracing the gentle slope of Artemis’ jaw with her thumb, the Hesperide drew her in for a kiss heavy with passion. Pale, slender arms wrapped about Zoë’s neck and tangled in well kept hair.   
“Hang on,” Zoë drew back and spun Artemis about to examine the other woman’s hair. She located a few pins and pulled them free sending auburn hair tumbling down from its hold.   
As soon as she felt her hair fall, Artemis turned about and set to work on Zoë. She was less skilled at removing the pins and clips only causing her frustration to grow. Reaching back, Zoë guided the goddess’ hands about with care until Artemis succeeded. When she had, Artemis tossed the damned things aside in irritation working at the fastens of Zoe’s attire.   
These were much easier to undo. The cloth fell in a gentle wave to the floor where it pooled like liquid mercury. Unfortunately, Artemis didn’t get a chance to study her lover who was keen on undressing the goddess in return. A rush of air at the disappearance of fabric sent a shiver through Artemis’ body that was quelled instantly by the arms holding her tight, the lips upon her bare shoulder, and the body that arched into her.   
“Let me see your face,” Artemis whispered, removing Zoë’s hold and drawing her about to where she could be seen. Smiling to herself, Artemis nestled a hand behind Zoë’s neck while the other travelled up and over a warm shoulder.   
Swallowing tightly, Zoë was pleasantly surprised by this newfound confidence in her goddess. She found it intoxicating. There was nothing better than having a girl who found joy in the smallest details of your being and demanded to see them.   
Regaining some of her composure, Zoë resumed her task of turning the moon goddess into nothing but the most beautiful mess she could. What was gentle reared it’s desperate head in a kiss that drew a repressed sigh from both girls. Tightening her hold, Zoë drew Artemis so close they nearly fell but even the space that existed however small it was couldn’t last. It was impossible. A centimeter felt like a canyon.   
Stumbling, Artemis drew them both towards the wall where her back settled on its cold sleek surface. The weight of Zoë pressing against her was mind numbing-it always was. Somehow though, this was different.  
And Artemis understood the true meaning behind Zoë’s words. This was the first time they’d truly be united, bonded, tethered together as two halves of the same whole, and extensions of one body. Suddenly, it seemed like Artemis couldn’t get close enough at all. She knew it was impossible but a burning desire to quite literally melt into the other girl was overwhelming.   
Aware of the hungry mouth ravaging her neck, Artemis let her hands roam as they pleased. She knew this body but it was also unfamiliar. It had changed in subtle ways only she could possibly know. One of those was the intensity burning in the confines of a mortal body. Age brought new challenges and passion was one of them.   
Startled from her thoughts by the light sting of teeth making themselves known on her chest, Artemis couldn’t help but arch into the greedy mouth and when it left she wanted nothing more than to drag it back where it belonged.   
Hand nestled in dark hair, Artemis managed to succeed in stealing a string of kisses as they shifted away from the wall. Walking was nearly impossible when one was thinking of nothing more than the body they wanted to hold.   
Before her legs could buckle at the sound of whispered words of love Artemis sat perched on the edge of her desk. But even that brought its challenges. The pressure of simply sitting sent a jolt of satisfaction to her brain that lead to the tentative movement of hips. What had been tentative lead to a forest fire of need, and it was nearly impossible to resist bearing down on the desk with a vengeance.   
“I got you,” Zoë promised, collecting Artemis in her arms freeing her of the temptation. Settling on the bed, Zoë wasted little time in teasing. She seemed to understand the change that had taken place. Artemis finally understood the desire she was feeling. They were meant to be together. It was as simple as that.   
Shifting about to toss aside some of the pillows crowding the bed Zoë became aware of Artemis’ hands traveling over her body. At one point, Artemis gripped lightly at Zoë’s waist guiding her back to hover over the goddess. Lust filled silver eyes hid a faint curiosity in them that Zoë didn’t understand until Artemis shuffled their legs together and sat up to kiss her.   
The feeling was strange and not entirely bad but Zoë was hesitant.   
“If you don’t want to-“ Artemis whispered, “it was a random idea. I don’t know if...”  
“Shh,” Zoë smiled faintly, pressing a light kiss to Artemis’ lips. “If you want to try whatever this is by all means we can. Just remember the same rules apply like the other ways.”  
“Talk,” Artemis recalled, “ask, and be honest.”   
“Good girl,” Zoë grinned, brushing aside loose strands of auburn hair. Pleased with herself, Artemis managed to move even closer to the Hesperide very aware of her movements. She hadn’t expected the contact to be so pleasing but the odd sensation of matching up so easily and the idea that both their needs would be met at once became an unbearable desire.   
With a shaky breath, Zoë made the first move followed by another and her fear was quickly replaced just as Artemis’ was. Whatever it was they were doing was new but it was hard to argue with the results.   
Though the more they tried to press into one another the more it became like a battle. Both had individual needs that made finding a rhythm of any sorts practically impossible. Mounting desire coupled with frustration lead to strong, intentional, and aggressive grinding of the hips.   
At one point Zoë slipped nearly kneeing Artemis in the groin muscle. Part of her wanted to simply take up the goddess in her arms and set to work like normal but the other part of her was stubborn and oddly determined.   
Settling down once more and calming her frustration, Zoë guided Artemis back to her where it felt like she’d never left. She could sense the slightest pulse of need from her lover and it offset her own like an incredibly slow heartbeat.   
Pale fingers ran through dark and damp hair tugging slightly every time slender hips dove forward to meet their counterpart. Each time one neared the peak of ecstasy it was as if some barrier kept them from tumbling over the edge.   
Lounging about in that sort of frustrating limbo for so long was nearly defeating and they’d inevitably have to ease their pursuits or risk tiring out completely. It wasn’t until the third time that pure stubbornness won out at last. Artemis had been afraid to press the agenda for fear of hurting Zoë but the Hesperide didn’t have that dilemma. Artemis was a god. She’d been shot and survived. She could take the sexual frustration and still be standing. At this point if Zoë were to spontaneously combust at least it’d be her fault.   
Zoë had always been strong but Artemis hadn’t experienced that strength outside of the battle field until now. There was power in her body, in those hips, those thighs, and that core. She was steady, strong, deliberate, and determined with her ministrations.   
The work was tiring to say the least, but the reward outweighed the effort for both of them. Holding Artemis close, Zoë struggled to comfort her goddess while riding out her own climax. Part of it seemed sort of cynical to her. She’d had to genuinely work for that temporary euphoria for impossibly long only for it to be so impossibly short.   
When the last remnants of pleasure faded and long passed Zoë studied the pained look upon Artemis’ face.   
“Are you okay?” Zoë breathed, brushing away tangled hair and kissing a sweaty brow.   
“I-I need something,” Artemis choked out at last. Panicking, Zoë glanced about in hopes of coming up with whatever Artemis desired but the goddess managed to clasp Zoë’s hand in her own. Though trembling from head to toe Artemis guided it to nestle beneath her  
and it was only then that Zoë understood.   
Nervous as she was, Zoë hesitantly slipped a finger into the empty, cramping space. When there was no change on Artemis’ part, one became two which became three. Only then was there an audible sound of relief.   
Waiting patiently, like always, Zoë mumbled reassurances to Artemis that everything would be alright. She couldn’t comprehend what that type of pain and pleasure could feel like. If it was possible to tell one from the other.   
With a choked breath Artemis relaxed in a heap of limbs slumped forward onto Zoë. “Thank you.”   
“Of course,” Zoë sighed, kissing a sweat dampened temple. “That was...interesting.”   
“Would you do it again?” Artemis panted.   
“Yes,” Zoë admitted. “Would you?”   
“Mmm,” was the only reply she got.   
“Were you hurt when-“  
“I just...”Artemis swallowed and blinked fiercely for a moment, “when there’s nothing there it’s like-like my body is fighting itself. Trying to fold into itself and the contact is...its like my insides are chafing. If that makes sense. I can’t quite explain it.”   
“It’s alright,” Zoë promised, “but now we know. Yeah?”   
“Yeah,” Artemis smiled, kissing Zoë lazily. “Maybe we can do it the old way next time?”   
“How soon is next time?” Zoë arched a brow.   
“As soon as I recover from this time,” Artemis grinned.   
“Then I’d be glad too,” Zoë laughed, nuzzling Artemis’ cheek. “I love you.”   
“I love you too,” Artemis sighed, tracing shapes on her lover’s arm.   
“I just remembered,” Zoë startled, carefully untangling herself much to Artemis’ displeasure. The Hesperide returned with something small in hand. “I know you made a lie about rings. You just didn’t want some generic band from Hephaestus. So...when I could I made this.”   
Zoë held up a simple silver band with the etched image of a moon and two arrows pointing towards it.  
“That’s beautiful,” Artemis smiled, letting Zoë slip it onto her finger. “You didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t a total lie-“  
Zoë silenced the goddess with a gentle kiss. “I always told myself I’d give the moon to the person I loved most. This is the best I can do considering you‘re the moon.”  
“Well I love it,” Artemis promised, looking fondly at the woman in front of her. “Now I have two.”   
Laughing, Zoë smothered Artemis’ pale body with her own and the two dissolved into fits of laughter at their shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Emily here. So, I’ll be going off to college very soon and am looking to make some money. I am doing writing commissions for anything you’d like. 5 dollars for 1k words and 1 dollar more for ever 250 after that. My email is: simplesimonem@cox.net if you’d like to talk about perhaps commissioning something. You don’t pay until I show you want I made so you’re satisfied. And if you can, send people my way who may want commissions done!  
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> https://www.paypal.me/theideamaster


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Zoë woke first the next morning. Every inch of her being was tender from the night before but there was a small satisfaction in it. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face relaxing into the bed. There was no rush today. No rush for anything. The huntresses were taking care of themselves for some time. Though that thought worried Zoë because like any family they could be dysfunctional at times, but she was reminded that they’d managed before.   
Stretching for a moment, the Hesperide sat up and examined the room. For once nothing was destroyed. Laughing softly to herself Zoë’s gaze settled on the slumbering goddess. Her heart fluttered for a moment at the sight.   
A pale slender body was stretched atop the dark furs and different marks decorated the goddess like a work of art. Her sternum was an offshade of pink, her shoulders were splotched from hungry lips, and her neck was peppered with light crescents. That explained the sting lingering on Zoë’s lips.   
Auburn hair lay sprawled in an offset halo across pillows, one arm arched above the head, the other rested beside a soft tinted cheek, and pale legs were sprawled open across the bed. Part of Zoë wanted to take Artemis up in her arms all over again, but the other was content to let her rest.   
Sighing, the Hesperide slowly clambered out of bed and set to collecting their discarded clothes. She became very aware of the tenderness in her hips, pelvis, and groin. To the point that too much movement was nearly painful. “Guess that’s what happens when you marry a goddess.”   
Folding everything neatly she set it aside to be put away later. Then, as quietly as possible, Zoë proceeded to brush through her hair after locating a brush. Even that was hard to do. She hadn’t realized how much of a tangled mess it’d become.   
“Mm,” sounded a soft sigh and the rustle of fabric. Zoë glanced over her shoulder to see the goddess stretching. Back arched, ribs pressed against taught skin, chest raised to the sky, thighs slightly flexed, and hands grasping at fists of empty air. The sight was beautiful.   
“What am I going to do?” Zoë sighed. Perhaps she hadn’t realized just what exactly having Artemis around forever meant. Then again, she had known very well wha it entailed and it was more than a selling point.   
Curling onto her side, Artemis remained asleep leaving the gentle ridges of her spine to face Zoë. It was a mercy for the Hesperide. Then again, what was she getting ready for? She didn’t have to be anywhere really. In fact, the only place she had to be was here.   
Setting aside the brush, Zoë clambered back into bed and nestled up against the other girl. Pulling the goddess close against her front, Zoë pressed a light kiss between two pale shoulder blades. Following the gesture, Artemis shifted in her sleep so her body fit snugly into the curve Zoë had created. This only drew a soft wince from the Hesperide. Her chest ached even at the touch of skin.  
In the silence, the soft sound of Artemis’ breath became soothing. The gentle rise and fall of her chest nearly lulled Zoë back to sleep but she fought to say awake. It was rare she got to admire the goddess for the sake of admiring. She’d seize the moment for as long as she could.   
Running a hand down a strong arm to coast over a side and glide down a hip, Zoë let her palm settle on the soft curve of a thigh. Her thumb drew gentle arches across the skin but the ministration succeeded in lulling her back to sleep. That, and the warmth of Artemis’ body against hers coupled with the lazy feeling in her bones.   
For some time neither moved but Artemis gradually woke. She located the hand on her leg and took it in her own repositioning the soft touch to settle on her stomach. Moving carefully, the goddess faced Zoë. Some part of her conscience knew Zoë had been awake at one point, but it was clear she had fallen asleep once more. The thought was amusing.   
Soft silver eyes held a steady gaze on the slumbering features of her wife. The familiar outline of lips remained slightly swollen from their use the previous night but they looked as enticing as ever. Two well sculpted brows were slightly furrowed like always when Zoë slept. Artemis often found herself telling Zoë to relax her face. That she scowled in her sleep, but it was something that couldn’t be helped.   
Brushing aside the dark curtain of hair threatening to hide Zoë’s features from view, Artemis’ gaze travelled elsewhere. The slant of Zoë’s shoulders seemed tense to no fault of her own. Every ounce of Artemis’ own being was exhausted and she knew the same went for Zoë. Ever so gently, Artemis kneaded the muscles with her fingertips drawing out an involuntary sigh from the Hesperide who relaxed even more into the bed.   
Once satisfied, Artemis let her hands wander over the work she’d left behind. A single mark on the jawline was graced by a thumb, the bruise of a hip was loved by a palm, and the tender flesh of the chest was adorned by soft kisses of hesitant fingertips.   
“Did I fall asleep?” Zoë mumbled, voice raspy with tiredness.   
“Yes,” Artemis mused, watching Zoë wipe lazily at her eyes. “You’re beautiful.”   
“As are you,” Zoë assured. “It was hard not to admire you when I woke. Sometimes I’m surprised you’re not carved from stone itself like the statue of David.”   
“If I am stone you are bronze,” Artemis decided, letting her fingers ghost over Zoë’s lips. The Hesperide caught her hand to press a kiss upon the palm.   
“Is it possible to remain here all day? In bed, I mean,” Zoë mumbled, letting her lover run a hand through her hair.   
“Yes. Anything for you unless you desire to go elsewhere,” Artemis promised.   
“Where would we go?” Zoë asked.  
“Well, I did have one thought,” Artemis explained. Zoë moved closer to settle her head on Artemis’ shoulder. “Do you remember the lake we went to? It was one of the first places we shared together. You spoke of it with fondness. It brought memories of your sisters back when your father let you travel at times.”   
“I remember. You were shivering,” Zoë recalled, “and your brothers spied upon us.”   
“Yes,” Artemis chuckled. “That was my thought. We could go there if you wished.”   
“That would be nice,” Zoë decided, “at least we can wash up there. Relax too. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t sore.”   
Artemis’ laugh was crisp and clear. A rare sound. “Likewise, love.”   
— — —  
“This place is exactly how I remember,” Zoë grinned, examining the water. It was still clear as ever with a hidden world below that looked as if it possessed all the sunken treasure in the universe.   
“Come on,” Artemis grinned, shedding her clothes and bounding into the water with a gleeful smile. She stumbled and dove in completely with a sharp laugh.   
“It’s shallow there,” Zoë reminded a little too late. Artemis rolled her eyes and sat up in the water.   
“I noticed,” came the snarky reply.   
Shaking her head, Zoë stepped out of her own attire and entered the water a bit more gracefully than her counterpart. It wasn’t warm but it wasn’t cold. A bit chilly perhaps but the chill was welcome to sore muscles.   
“If I recall correctly, last time we were here I was the one who fell,” Zoë smiled. Artemis swam about for a moment before ducking into the water so her eyes appeared just above it. “Mmm. An alligator in my waters? Maybe a shark? No, sharks don’t live in lakes. What about a piranha?”   
Bubbles broke the surface at Artemis’ laughter and rather ironically she revealed a large toothy smile. With a teasing chomp at the air she vanished below the surface entirely.   
The goddess popped up once more not far from Zoë only to vanish again. The little game continued for some time until Artemis dipped under Zoë settling the Hesperide on her shoulders and shooting up to launch the other girl.   
Laughing hysterically, Artemis smiled endearingly at the sputtering Hesperide a few feet away. “Your face!”   
Frowning, Zoë lunged catching Artemis by the arm and pulling her down. The two wrestled for a moment occasionally splashing one another before Artemis broke away and swam off. Zoë followed close behind trying not to swallow water as she stifled laughter. “Coward!”  
“You wish!” Artemis teased, stooping down to pull up a piece of reed by the end. “On guard.”   
This time it was Zoë’s turn to swim away in an attempt to avoid the playful jabs of the reed to the ribs and legs. “You tricky woman.”   
“I can be clever. I learned from my brother,” Artemis grinned, tilting her head and leaving Zoë alone for now.   
“I know,” The Hesperide snorted, grasping the end of the reed and jerking Artemis off balance. The goddess stumbled a moment before toppling into the water all over again, “but so am I.”   
Booping Artemis on the head with the reed Zoë helped brush aside a mop of soaked auburn hair. Laughing as Artemis tried to pry a few strands out of her mouth Zoë let the reed float off on its own. At last, Artemis succeeded with a triumphant smile. “Forgot why I like braids so much and I just remembered why.”  
“Yes, but you still look stunning when your hair is down,” Zoë noted.   
“Thank you,” Artemis laughed, wrapping her arms about Zoë’s neck. She played with a few of the short strands at the base of Zoë’s head much to her own amusement. “You know there’s countless possibilities now. I’d been thinking on some of them lately.”  
“What do you mean?” Zoë asked, arching a brow.   
“Well, think about it. Everything I have is yours now. My home, my family, my love, and more. We can change some things too. Make my home more...of a home for both of us. Make something outside of my chambers. A place where we can go that’s separate from the heart of Olympus if we want. We could travel as we pleased and spend all the time we want with the girls. And we wouldn’t have to be as secretive around them as before. For once there’s the opportunity to have things how we want, when we want, and more.”   
“That sounds wonderful Arty, it does, but there’s still things to be thought of. You can’t neglect your duties to Olympus simply for me and you can’t neglect your duties elsewhere. It’s tempting I know, and I don’t pretend to understand what it all entails, but don’t lose sight of who you are,” Zoë insisted, holding Artemis’ gaze.   
“I won’t. My sister’s taught me to be level headed,” Artemis assured. “But I don’t think we should wait anymore for the right moment to do these things because it won’t come. That’s not how the world works. We’d be waiting forever, and yeah, we have forever, but that’s a painful forever.”  
Zoë nodded, swallowing tightly. Artemis was right and she knew it but the possibilities that Zoë was thinking of were both equally enticing and frightening. “I just worry, Arty. I don’t know about what exactly but...I do.”  
“Why?” Artemis studied Zoë’s conflicted expression.   
“There’s a likelyhood that we won’t get to have what we want,” Zoë sighed. “Not everything anyways. And I’m okay with that but I don’t want your hopes to be high. Do I adore seeing you so optimistic? More than anything, but I can’t help feeling this way.”   
“I understand,” Artemis smiled faintly. Sighing, she settled her head upon Zoë’s shoulder and shifted her arms to wrap about the Hesperide’s waist. After a moment something occurred to Artemis that may have explained a portion of Zoë’s anxiety, worry, and apprehension.   
Pale fingers ran over a side to rest gently upon a sturdy abdomen. The goddess’ thumb carved gentle arches over coppery skin as she thought of how to approach the topic. “Are you afraid to ask?”  
“Hm?” Zoë frowned, having taken to studying the tree-line.   
“Are you afraid to ask for another?” Artemis elaborated, keeping the tracing pattern of her thumb in motion.   
“No, the worst anyone can say is no,” Zoë replied, picking up on the missing details to Artemis’ question.   
“Then what is it?” Artemis whispered.   
Zoë remained quiet for a long time. “When I was talking to my sister I learned something that even most of her friends don’t know.”  
“Yeah?” Artemis encourages gently.   
Zoë ran a hand over the arch of Artemis’ back in thought-or in an attempt to ground herself-Artemis wasn’t sure. “Sol was supposed to have an older brother. Around the age of Jaxon and Maria but...he didn’t survive. Caly had a miscarriage. She was lucky with Sol. There were complications.”   
“I-I didn’t know that,” Artemis mumbled, “I’m sorry. I know you care about her.”  
“I do, but now I have to wonder if it’s not a family-“  
“You don’t know that,” Artemis interrupted. “Bad things happen to good people to no fault of their own. Lucky or not your sister still got a daughter she loves dearly. And what happened to you...that wasn’t you. Okay? That wasn’t your body being unable to handle things. Hell, your sister isn’t even at fault for what happened. It just does. As shitty as it is, things like that happen.”   
“I don’t want it happening again,” Zoë glared at the water. “I’m not taking that risk. I’m sorry.”  
“What if I do it?” Artemis offered.   
“You can’t. You have duties and responsibilities to attend to,” Zoë reminded. “Besides, you’ve always told me you wouldn’t handle it well. And that’s okay.”  
“Why can’t we at least try?” Artemis pleaded. The goddess jumped slightly at the hands which moved to frame her face.   
“Arty, this isn’t something to play with. It’s not a game, I’m sorry. It’s a matter of life and death and things in between. It’s my choice. I don’t want to put myself through that for a potential success. It’s my body,” Zoë spoke earnestly but gently.   
“Okay,” Artemis nodded. “Okay.”  
“Please don’t be mad,” the Hesperide pleaded.  
“I’m not. I told you I could never be mad at you,” Artemis reminded. “Never.”  
“It’s okay to be mad you know. It’s a natural response.”  
“Yes, but why would I be mad about a decision you have every right to make?” Artemis frowned. “What kind of person would I be?”  
“You never cease to amaze me,” Zoë smiled, pressing a light kiss to her lover’s forehead. “The world could use more people like you.”   
Artemis refrained from pointing out how horribly ironic that statement was. “Then that would make me boring.”   
“Never!” Zoë laughed. “You’re never boring. Always exciting. I think so anyways.”   
Artemis smiled ever so slightly and pulled away from their embrace. Zoē gave a small sound of protest and gently pulled the goddess back. “It’s late, Zoë.”  
“I know.”  
“If we stay here for the night we’ll need a place to sleep,” Artemis explained fighting to get her words out through a series of Zoë’s light kisses.   
“When’s that ever bothered us before?” Zoë asked.   
“Be patient.”   
With a small sigh, Zoë let Artemis go to collect whatever supplies her heart desired. She watched the girl’s pale form become hidden by damp garments and her frame disappear into the trees.   
— — —  
Artemis struggled to keep her thoughts in line. She had asked for space for a half baked reason and she had better deliver or look like a fool. She didn’t want to let Zoë know she was upset. It wasn’t fair to her. The Hesperide didn’t need to feel guilty let alone because of Artemis’ own feelings.   
Once a good distance away, Artemis stopped her trek in the woods, set aside the hollow reeds she’d collected, and slumped against the rough bark of a tree. She didn’t quite know why she was crying, let alone so violently, but that didn’t matter. What could she possibly do? Maybe Zoë was right. Maybe her family’s gene pool wasn’t made for-no, there was no reason to think that. It’d worked before why not again? If Zoë hadn’t died who knew what would have happened? Maybe they wouldn’t have even had such a conversation.   
That’s when something struck Artemis. She’d remembered the way Atlas’ burden was described. It was the Titan’s curse but that was misleading. That implied that he was the one bearing a curse not giving them out. To Artemis it seemed that she’d been cursed by the Titan. That she wouldn’t be able to have the future she hadn’t known she wanted because of what he did. Because of what he did to Zoë.   
Stifling a small gasp, the goddess wiped at her face with a vengeance. She was keen to erase all evidence of this slip up.   
Collecting herself and her things she continued on until satisfied with what she held.   
— — —  
Returning to the lake, Artemis set to work on making some small construction of a place to rest. She was aware of Zoë still moving lazily about in the water and part of her wanted to look but she remained focused on the task at hand.   
“You are upset.” The words startled the goddess who’d completely tuned out the rest of the world. For no long she didn’t know.   
Zoë knelt in front of her and drew up her chin. “You’ve been crying.”  
“I am fine,” Artemis insisted, turning away to set back to work when soft hands wrestled with her shoulders to pry her away. “I said I’m fine.”  
“Don’t lie to me for my own sake,”Zoë frowned. “Don’t do that.”   
“I’m not,” Artemis promised.  
“You are,” Zoë shook her head. “What’s wrong? Please, tell me. Was it something I said?”   
“It’s not you,” the goddess promised, starting to shimmy out of her clothes. “Now, are we doing this or-“  
“No,” Zoë tore Artemis’ hands away from her clothes. “You don’t want to. I can see it in your eyes.”  
“But you do,” Artemis reminded, “and why should I say no because I’m being stupidly upset? Why?”  
“Because you can!” Zoë cried. “You can say no. You don’t have to give up your voice just to make me happy. In fact, it makes me sad. It hurts me.”  
“Ho-“  
“Because you love me so much you’re willing to hurt yourself in the process of making me happy,” Zoë’s eyes shone with tears. “And that scares me. Terrifies me. You’ve always been that way but right now-right now I’m afraid. That you’d just let me lay with you while you bite your tongue and hate every second of it. If I did that-I would hate myself more than you can possibly know.”  
“Love,” Artemis leaned forward so their eyes met, “I cannot and will not place my burden on your shoulders. It is mine to carry. Do you understand? If I speak my heart it will be dangerous.”   
“Then speak,” Zoë growled, staring back with such an intensity it almost made Artemis uneasy.   
“No.”  
“Artemis-“  
“No!”  
“Please!” Zoë kissed the goddess roughly as if she could tear the words from her lover’s lips.   
“I want a family,” Artemis choked out, tearing Zoë’s mouth from her own to nearly yell those damning words, “okay?! I want-I want a family but I want you too and I cannot have both! I have never been able to have both!”  
Hot tears tumbled from silver eyes that nearly burned with fire. “Arty-“  
“And I will not ask you to do something you don’t want to. I won’t guilt you into it with my tears or words. That’s why I didn’t speak. Because it is your choice and yours alone, damn it!” Artemis’ chest heaved, and her entire frame shook from small trembles. “Because your father has killed you he has killed me. That was our chance. The only one. And I was foolish to let everything happen as it did. I should have killed him and let the world implode.”  
Zoë tried to make sense of the goddess but her appearance was terrifyingly beautiful. The amount of emotion pouring through her was enough to make the temperature rise ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Arty. I am. It’s not a no forever but I-“  
“You promise to understand that I still love you,” Artemis’ voice wavered with shear anger-or was it love?-with her words. “Do you understand me? I love you. No matter how I feel or what happens.”  
“I love you too,” Zoë whispered, drying her lover’s eyes with careful touches. “I would never try to make you unhappy.”  
“I know,” the huntress sighed, letting her head fall upon Zoë’s chest. She was tired, desperate, and her heart ached, but she was hungry too. “Let me have you tonight. Please. Just this once.”  
“You don’t have to-“  
“I want to,” Artemis replied, her jaw set, brows furrowed, and expression stern. “Let me.”  
“Okay,” Zoë nodded, sitting back on her heels. “Be gentle please.”  
“When are you gentle with me?” Artemis asked, wriggling out of her clothes.  
“Never, but I’m still sensitive from last night,” the Hesperide admitted.   
“Then we’ll need to stay another day,” Artemis determined, finding an odd sort of passion and confidence within her.   
“Will I be able to walk tomorrow?” Zoë teased, making herself comfortable.   
“We’ll see,” Artemis smiled slowly at the slight wonder in Zoë’s eyes. Not to mention the poor girl was already writhing under her stare, with rushed breath, agitated posture, and hands that seemed unsure of what to do. Artemis hadn’t even touched her yet. That was fine though. By the end of the night Zoë would never doubt again how much she truly loved her.   
Capturing the Hesperide’s lips in her own, Artemis pulled back far too soon. “I want to kiss every piece of you before morning.”   
“You have a lot of work to do,” Zoë breathed.  
“I’m a god. No work is too unbearable,” Artemis smirked. “The question is...where to start and how?”  
“You-“Zoë’s eyes narrowed, “you know very well what your mouth is capa-“  
“I know,” came the smug interruption, followed by a kiss, and the soft laugh of someone who knew exactly what they were up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got any ideas on an AU for zartemis I can start cooking up please let me know! Also, hit up the comments with your thoughts!


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Artemis had just finished helping Apollo get some odd gunk out of his hair that was the result of a Hermes prank bomb malfunction. The stuff was practically cement, and after he whined for hours that she was being too rough, Artemis managed to free him of the last few pieces. His entire face looked beat red from scrubbing the strange mixture from his skin earlier and he now resembled one of those troll dolls.   
Frankly, Artemis would have paid to get a picture of his appearance and frame it. Thankfully, Apollo was wise enough to run off before she could properly tease him. Of course, it wouldn’t be hard to find him. He was probably trying to comb through his blonde mop of hair, but she gave him a break. He’d suffered enough already.   
Glad that the entire ordeal was over, Artemis left him to cry into his pillow if he wanted. She’d done her job and it was time to get in with her day. But as she made her way across the palace, she regretted her decision to leave. Ares had spotted her and the big idiot couldn’t resist badgering her.   
Normally it was over silly things like motorcycles, or which sword was better than the other, and whether or not he had the beer collection of weapons. None of it was all that interesting. Only this time, there was something different about his demeanor.   
His shoulders were tight, his jaw sterns, his brow furrowed, and his eyes glowed with semi-contained Fire. “I would have thought you’d have your little girlfriend around.”  
“I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a wife,” Artemis replied curtly, trying to appear disinterested. “She’s busy.”  
“Ah,” Ares chuckled as if he knew something no one else did. “She’s stuck in bed isn’t she?”  
“Reading, if you’d like to be specific.” Artemis had left Zoë to read her book as she pleased. She was very much like Athena when it came to reading. Once she started she absolutely hated being interrupted or having to stop.   
“Not a very good cover up,” Ares shook his head.   
“I beg your pardon?” Artemis frowned.   
“It’s no secret you’re just rawing her until neither of you can stand. That’s how it works isn’t it? Besides, you have that weird nature thing.” Ares gestured to all of Artemis as if she were the plague. “You’re breeding her, obviously, but I don’t know why. It’s not like anything will happen. You’re missing some key anatomy here.”  
Artemis was too stunned to reply. Her head was reeling with all that he’d just said. “H-how dare you. That’s not-“  
“True?” Ares arched a brow. “Ah, come on. You think she doesn’t know that too? My lady, is the goddess of love after all. I know these things. She’s not quiet.”  
“Aphrodite wouldn’t-“  
“She would,” Ares snorted. “I don’t know what heart to heart you had with her but come on...you think her affections would last? You and that little girl of yours are a hot mess. That’s what. You keep sleeping with her like you are and she’ll get bored. In the back of her pretty head she knows why you’re doing it. Even if it’s pointless. Not to mention that you’ve abandoned your hunters. I thought you called them family but they don’t see much of you now do they?”  
“You’re disgusting,” Artemis hissed. “Get out of my sight before you miss a key part of anatomy too.”   
Ares shook his head with a smirk and waltzed off swinging a sword about from hand to hand.   
“Talking about swords again?”   
Artemis turned to see Aphrodite make a disgusted face. “Glad I avoided that conversation. What a nightmare. Who cares about a rapier or a broadsword or whatever they are. If it stabs it’s a sword.”   
“What’ve you been talking to him about?” Artemis asked.   
“Oh, I try to not talk. It’s easier that way,” Aphrodite shrugged. “Why do toy ask as if I’ve done something wrong?”   
“Nothing, I’m being foolish,” Artemis sighed.   
“It happens,” Aphrodite hummed, studying her nails for any sign of imperfection. “How have things been since your wedding? Lovely, by the way. Not as grand as I’d have had it but that’s alright. “  
“Fine. Everything’s fine,” Artemis smiled faintly.   
“Fine? Honey, that’s not fine at all. Fine is the one word you’re never supposed to use to describe a relationship,” Aphrodite frowned. “What is it that’s putting a kink in things?”  
“You couldn’t have used another word?”  
“I’m the love goddess,” Aphrodite smirked, “it’s ingrained in my vocabulary.”   
“Great.”   
“You’re avoiding the question.”   
“Well, I don’t have to tell you anything. Especially when Zoë isn’t here to have a say in the conversation either,” Artemis decided.   
“You know, you can be independent. Not everything has to be shared,” Aphrodite sighed. “You can have conversations with people about issues that involve her. It’s only a problem when you’re a bitch about it...sorry. Bad word.”   
“It’s nothing that’s her fault,” Artemis insisted. “No one’s really. And we talked about it anyways.”   
“But are you satisfied with the discussion?” Aphrodite arched a brow.  
“Why does that matter?”  
“A discussion means nothing unless both parties are satisfied with it by the end,” Aphrodite replied. “You were not. In fact, you prefer to distract people from the topic at hand. You’re like your father in that regard, but you do it for someone else’s good and not your own.”   
“Listen, if I need advice I’ll find you. For now, I’m okay.” Artemis assured, but Aphrodite had her doubts.   
“Alright, if you insist.”   
— — —  
“Arty, something’s bothering you. What is it?” Zoë asked, clambering into bed beside her.   
“I’m alright,” Artemis promised, smiling softly at the other girl.   
“You say that, but you’ve hardly let me touch you this past week,” Zoë frowned, looking genuinely hurt. Whether it be hugging or kissing or anything in between Artemis seemed very keen on escaping any form of affection. “I know it’s not me, because I talked to Aphrodite. She said you’d had some discussion with Ares. What’d he say to you?”  
“Zoë, I don’t want-“  
“Artemis.” The Hesperide spoke firmly, drawing the goddess’ full attention. “You may not want to discuss this but you need to. Whatever is hurting you is hurting me too and it’s not fair. Do you understand? You can’t be afraid of hurting my feelings.”  
“Alright,” Artemis sighed, turning to properly face Zoë. “Do-do you think I’m...breeding you? Like some sort of animal? Because I-I feel like I am? And I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t want you to feel that way. Because that’s not why-“  
Already, Zoë could see the tears welling in Artemis’ eyes and the soft spasms of her diaphragm as she tried to contain her sobs. There was something else going on that was only making this worse. It was already escalating and Artemis had barely begun speaking.   
“What are you talking about? You’re not-Arty, I don’t understand. You’ve never said you felt that way even when the seasons change and you can’t help it. You’re being hard on yourself and you’re creating these ideas that just hurt you. Why?”  
“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay?” Artemis cried. “I wish I did but I don’t and I can’t help it. I’m just waiting for something to go wrong. I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t be but I am. Because nothing has ever let us have time together. Time that lasts. I don’t want to be the reason for it. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to hurt you...again.”  
“Come here.” Zoë’s expression had softened and her voice was barely above a whisper. Artemis didn’t move because she hadn’t heard. She was trying too hard not to cry anymore.   
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. I know it upsets you,” She choked. “I just feel like I can’t breathe. Not to mention I feel horrible because we don’t see the others. They need us to help and we’re here. We abandoned them and I promised I wouldn’t. I told them that they were family...and-and I-“  
“It’s okay,” Zoë promised, wiping at stray tears. “Just listen to me, okay? No more talking for now. Can you do that?”  
“Yeah,” Artemis nodded.   
“I think...I think there’s something else going on too. It’s not your fault okay? It’s here.” Zoë settled a hand on Artemis’s forehead. “You can’t control it, okay? But I think that maybe seeing your brother and telling him how you feel-telling him what you’ve told me-can help. He can help you.”   
“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want you and that’s it. Nothing else.” Artemis spoke rapidly as if she were afraid she wouldn’t get her words out.   
“Listen to me. It’s not that you’re broken, understand? It’s not. You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know of. And you may not want to talk to him but you need to. Because this? This isn’t okay, Arty. It’s not okay for you. It’s not healthy. I know you’re a god but that doesn’t mean things can’t affect you. If anything they affect you more because it’s built up for centuries. You’re living in some self inflicting fear and I don’t want that for you. I thought that you’d be happy-“  
“Don’t say that,” Artemis whimpered pleadingly as if she’d been physically wounded, “I am happy. I promise.”  
“I know. That came out wrong and I’m sorry,” Zoë sighed. “I mean that I thought you’d be happy because you could relax, you could feel safe, you’d know that I’m not going anywhere, but somehow it’s worse now and I don’t know why. And I know that you don’t know why either.”   
“Can we just sleep?” Artemis begged.   
“Why you afraid to see him? To risk about this?” Zoë looked pleadingly at the other girl.   
“What if there’s something wrong with me and it won’t go away? What if I can’t be fixed?”   
“You’re not wrong and you’re not broken,” Zoë insisted. “You could wake up one day looking like a pig and never change back and I’d love you. If I can love that then whatever is hurt up here I can love too.”  
Zoë pressed a light kiss to Artemis’ forehead. She was aware that every inch of the goddess was trembling like a frightened rabbit. It broke her heart.   
“Can we do it tomorrow?”  
“Yeah, but it has to be tomorrow okay? No distractions,” Zoë decided. She wasn’t giving Artemis a choice in that matter.   
“Okay,” Artemis sighed, having calmed a little. She latched onto Zoë like a life line and hid her tear stained face from view in the hesperide’s chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t love you this last week. I mean, I do love you but I didn’t.”  
“I know what you mean,” Zoë assured, “and it’s okay, but you have to talk. You’ve always had a hard time with that.”  
“I’ll work on it. I promise.”   
“I know.” Zoë sighed, gently rubbing Artemis’ back until she fell asleep.   
— — —  
The next morning was a challenge in getting the goddess out of bed. It’s wasn’t that she was going back on their deal, but whatever fit had come over her the previous night had left her half dead to the world. It took nearly until the afternoon for Zoë to ease her awake with kisses, hugs, soft touches, and gentle words.   
“Wha-? How long have I been sleeping?” Artemis mumbled, looking rather comical with her bleary eyes and wild hair. She glanced about as if the room itself held an answer.   
“It’s alright, you needed it,” Zoë smiled. “But we have to catch your brother before he slips away. Remember?”  
“Yeah,” Artemis sighed, planting her face in the pillow again. With a soft groan she sat up and gave an attempt at looking determined. “Will you be there?”  
“I think it’s best if you have a heart to heart with him. Unless you need me there,” Zoë said.   
“I can do it,” Artemis decided. She wanted to seem at least a little brave. It wasn’t her brother she was scared of but the things he might say to her. The diagnosis if you will. “What will you be doing?”  
“Just business,” Zoë smiled faintly. “We can talk about it later and you can tell me whatever you want.”   
“Deal,” Artemis smiled, kissing Zoë lightly.   
“Remember, no matter what he says you can tell me.”   
“I know,” Artemis sighed. Satisfied with Artemis’ answer, Zoë left her to her own devices. She didn’t need to baby sit the goddess. She trusted Artemis to see Apollo like she’d promised. In the mean time, Zoë had another god to find.   
She found him playing about with weapons like an overgrown child. Hearing her approach, Ares glanced over his shoulder at her where a smirk formed in his face. “Well, I didn’t think anyone would see you walking around here-“  
“Shut up,” Zoë glared. “Don’t you even think about saying another word until I’m finished.”  
Ares was too surprised to say anything other than, “uhh.”  
“Whatever you said to Artemis was cruel and unfair. Don’t you ever think of talking to her again the way you did before. I don’t want one negative word out of your mouth or so help me I will tear out organs your one by one, cook them in front of you, and make you eat them. That is my wife you’re messing with and I don’t take that lightly at all. Not one bit. You haven’t the slightest clue what she’s been through and it trumps whatever little boy war victories you have.”  
“I didn’t think she was so much of a coward as to send you to confront me for her,” Ares snorted. Zoë’s first slammed into his nose and in the blink of an eye she’d grabbed him by the front of his clothes to slam him against the wall.   
“I’m not playing games here. You leave her alone. You may not have touched her but you still hurt her. That’s unacceptable. So from now on, when you talk to her, you say nice things it out say nothing at all. Do I make myself clear?” Zoë demanded. Her eyes were alive with an angry fire so violent it made Ares’ look small.   
“We’re clear,” He snarled. Zoë released him grudgingly, and left the poor excuse of a man behind. Part of her hoped he took her seriously but the other wanted him desperately to test her. Just so she could see the look in his face when she ruined him.   
Steadying her breath and slowly calming her anger, Zoë approached the library, collected a new book, and returned to Artemis’ chambers. She read fairly fast under most circumstances but with all that had happened she found herself reading the same sentence over and over again.   
“Hi.”The timid greeting sparked Zoë’s attention. Her head shot upward to see Artemis enter the room. “New book. How is it?”  
“Boring so far,” Zoë laughed nervously. “So...how did it go?”  
“Well,” Artemis swallowed tightly, “apparently I’ve developed anxiety. I guess gods can get it too but at least with us it can go away over lots of time. He said medicine like mortals doesn’t work because god metabolisms are too fast. So he gave me this.”  
Artemis held up an old school looking medicine bottle. Zoë took off the lid in curiosity and sniffed at the edge. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Does it taste bad?”  
“Very,” Artemis snorted. “But I take six drops in the morning and the evening-fast metabolism and all-and he says it’s supposed to make me less anxious, more calm, and stay out of my own head. So, I hope that’s the case.”  
“Me too,” Zoë sighed, taking the goddess’ hand in her own. “I’m proud of you.”   
“Thanks, but it’s not so bad I guess. Thia has anxiety too so I suppose instead of me helping her out she can help me out this time,” Artemis shrugged.  
“I think she’d like that. More to bind over,” Zoë grinned. “So no more worries? Or less of them anyway.”   
“Yeah,” Artemis smiled, “but there’s something you said that stuck with me. About not being afraid to hurt your feelings. Aphrodite also said some things to me that I feel are applicable. One, is that I can’t keep distracting people who I’m afraid of hurting by confronting things. The second is that, a discussion isn’t done until both parties are satisfied with the discussion itself. Not necessarily the ending. And I want to talk about what we did at the lake.”   
“Oh,” Zoë nodded. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”  
“I know that things are different. I won’t negate your emotions or feelings but I have to tell you mine for what they are.” Artemis spoke slowly and carefully as if she were mulling over every word. “There was a time when I didn’t want a family and you did. I didn’t know that we had hey chance until it was too late and I didn’t know I wanted it too until it was too late. When we had talked about it, I wasn’t in a place to consider such a future. But when I didn’t have you, when I was gone, I realized that there was nothing I wanted more than having the family with you. But I lost it as soon as I realized it. Ever since, it’s been something I can’t help but think about. Especially when Thia came along. Seeing her grow up-I want that. But I want it for myself and not from someone else. I want to be the entire world to someone who has nothing but this pure innocence where they take in everything with wide eyes and just want to learn. To love you and do whatever it takes to make you happy and to know that you love them too. I want that desperately. And I can’t ignore that feeling no matter how hard I try.”   
Zoë sat in silence taking in all that Artemis had said. She didn’t want to respond right away. She wanted to be careful in what she said because she didn’t want to be misleading. “Arty, you know that I have a hard time with this. It’s not that I don’t want a family too, I do, but I’m still hurting over what happened. That I didn’t know my own body enough to be able to tell-“  
“That’s not your fault,” Artemis assured.   
“And to find out about my sister’s loss. It’s heartbreaking too. I’m tired of losing things and I guess I feel a little like you did last night. That the more I have the more I have to lose. It’s not fair, and I know it isn’t, but there’s a million other factors besides potentially losing another kid. There could be health complications for myself. There’s the fact that I’m not going to look the same as I do now after having a kid. I’m just not. And that’s hard to think of. Maybe it won’t be so bad but I’m not going to know until t happens. I don’t do well being pent up places and I’d hate every moment you’re off hunting and I’m stuck here.” Zoë could barely bring herself to look at Artemis but there was somehow still a glimmer of hope in those silver eyes.   
“We can do this. The two of us. We’ve been through everything together and I wouldn’t let this be something you do alone. My brother told me today that we can’t give up on tomorrow because of yesterday. If we do then everything will be full of regret no matter what. And as far as appearance go, didn’t you say you’d love me if I was a pig?” Artemis laughed, drawing a small smile from Zoë. “Same goes for you. You’re my equal. I’ll always treat you like my equal. And I wouldn’t leave you here with nothing to do. I wouldn’t dream of it because I’d be bored too. Besides, you could help anyways because we all know I’m very capable of reading maps wrong.”  
“You did nearly take us to the Sahara that one time,” Zoë laughed.   
“So I’m not saying let’s have a family starting tomorrow, but let’s at least talk it over for a while. Work out the...kinks...Gods I hate Aphrodite-“  
“What?”  
“Nothing. Anyways, we can keep talking about it. But let’s not make no a permanent answer. Can we at least agree to that?” Artemis asked.   
“Yeah,” Zoë nodded. “We can agree to that.”  
“Good,” Artemis grinned, “now, to make up for this past week why don’t I take you around the mountain? Maybe find something to eat? Find Mr. Potts?” Anything you desire.”  
“I like the sound of that,” Zoë laughed, taking Artemis’ hand and following her out.


	23. Chapter 23

Getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow so I don’t know if I’ll update as soon as I want. Just thought I’d let you all know.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

The sound of baying wolves filled the night air. The hunt was on and the group of hunters were trailing the call of their canine companions. But, despite the dark, the group traversed the terrain with ease. It was practically second nature to them.  
“We need to close the gap or we risk losing the trail,” Cleo warned, calling to the wolves in a sharp bay of her own. She’d perfected the sound to an uncanny accuracy.  
“We’re spread too thin already,” Milla replied, scampering up a rocky ridge. “Daria is already ahead of us with Addie. “  
“They can’t be alone with an entire pack on their scent. All it takes is one wrong move and they’re Lycaon’s dinner,” Cleo huffed. “I wish the bastard would stay dead and out of the way.”  
“Enough bickering,” Zoë interrupted, matching the girls’ pace. “We have two options. Wait for the others to catch up or risk a flank by spreading out. Analyze the consequences of each. Decide.”  
“Regroup. I’ll go ahead. The wolves are quiet. It makes me nervous,” Artemis frowned, vanishing behind a tree only to reappear as a wolf on the other side. She darted away in a streak of white. Feet striking silently against the ground, Artemis tore through the forest in pursuit of her hunters. Their scents were faint and steadily growing. Head bowed, she pushed on feeling the wind tug at her body. Hurtling through a heavy thicket she crashed into the scene. Daria was on the ground. She was bleeding from a stomach wound and Addie was nowhere to be found. Reading the situation in a split second, Artemis lunged.  
The tide of black came crashing down with snapping jaws and razor claws. The goddess lay atop her comrade protecting her from the assault while trying to lash out when possible. Unfortunately, any retaliation on her part allowed an attack to befall Daria. Taking the claws and teeth with stubborn concern the world around her was nothing but a blur of fur. There seemed to be no reprieve until the black tide was met with a white wind. Artemis’ own wolves slammed into their counterparts eager for a taste of enemy blood.   
Amidst the mess, Artemis grasped her companion by the collar attempting to pull her free. It was no use. The fight was chaotic, and friendly blows fell against her too. At last, a familiar bay drew back the assault of white. As the black tide retreated, licking their wounds, other huntresses attempted to pursue them.  
“Leave them,” Zoë warned. “Find Addie. If anything, she’s still chasing Lycaon. Kill the chase and bring her back.”  
“Milla, let’s go,” Cleo panted, taking off in a sprint. Her companion was quick to follow.   
Peeling herself off Daria, Artemis was able to better see the wound upon her stomach. The flesh was ragged and torn. She’d nearly been gutted by a set of claws. Had the attack followed through completely, she’d have been dead by the time Artemis arrived.  
“Kyra, set up camp. Brynn, we need to tend to Daria’s wounds now.” Zoë’s voice was firm, and the huntresses looking on in stunned silence snapped into action all at once.   
Soon, a small camp had been arranged, a fire was being encouraged by a careful hand, Daria was out of sight in the care of a healer, Addie had finally returned, and a solemn silence lingered in the dark. Considering the severity of Daria’s wounds, it wasn’t likely she’d survived. The thought pained Artemis, but she couldn’t do anything now. As for Zoë, convincing the goddess to abandon the healing tent was difficult. Artemis had yet to change back to human form, her fur was torn and matted with golden blood, and she could barely sit without trembling from head to toe. Even as she sat outside the healing tent, her wounds continued to ooze ichor.  
“You can’t stay here. Your wounds need attention too. Daria’s fate is out of our control now,” Zoë spoke softly, crouching beside the goddess. Artemis turned to study the Hesperide knowing by the quiet determination in her eyes that Zoë wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bowing her head, she attempted to stand. Artemis’ form jerked like a broken puppet and before she could crash back to the ground, Zoë hooked her arms about the chest and back hips like she was lifting a dog. She walked carefully back to their own tent and ducked inside. There, Artemis struggled to turn human once more, only succeeding with a violent shiver.  
With as much patience as she could muster, Zoë carefully peeled away her lover’s tattered clothes. Beneath them were gashes, puncture wounds, and bite marks leaving tattered flesh, jagged skin, and torn muscles open for the world to see. Perhaps one of the worst wounds was that of the chest. Her breasts were seemingly nonexistent and all that was there were flaps of skin, tissue, blood, and flesh. The sight of it all was nearly too much for Zoë. Swallowing the bile in the back of her throat she scavenged about for ambrosia and nectar. They’d been running low on their supplies as of late. She and Artemis had spent a week with the huntresses shortly after Artemis’ visit with Apollo. What Zoë wouldn’t give for that god to appear right now she didn’t know, but she was willing to negotiate.   
“You shouldn’t have done that.”  
“She’d certainly be dead if I hadn’t,” Artemis countered, though her voice barely carried the few feet that separated them. “I can’t risk that. I promised to protect them. We protect each other.”  
“I know,” Zoë sighed, “but I hate seeing you like this. You may be a god, and you may heal from this, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel the pain of it.”  
The goddess remained quiet. There was no use in arguing at the moment, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Zoë had a point. Instead, Artemis focused on other things. She watched with care the way Zoë moved about the tent. Anything she moved in her search for ambrosia, she put back exactly where it had been before. Part of this analysis amused Artemis. Even after all of these years, Zoë was as organized as ever.  
“What are you smiling at?” Zoë frowned.  
“Nothing,” Artemis assured.   
At last, the hesperide found what she’d been looking for, and with a small flourish held it up for Artemis to see. “There’s not much. We need to replenish our supplies, but it should do for now.”  
“Will Daria need it?” Artemis worried.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Ask,” the goddess insisted. Much to Zoë’s irritation, she obeyed despite every section of her brain telling her to just make Artemis drink the damn thing.  
Artemis waited patiently for Zoë’s return. As expected, the little excursion didn’t take long, and the nectar was still in hand. If Daria didn’t need it she was either dead or on the mend. Artemis hoped it was the latter. She would have asked if it weren’t for the look of soft anger in Zoë’s features. “Thank you.”  
With a pensive nod in reply, Zoë sat beside her wife and examined the nectar. She wasn’t entirely sure how much gods could have or if there were even any side effects for them to begin with. “You know what you need I presume?”  
“Yes,” Artemis smile faintly, carefully taking the nectar and undoing the bottle’s cap. She’d never been one to enjoy the drink as much as some of the other gods. Usually it was too overwhelming in taste and the contents left her feeling sick. Too much of a good thing was bound to be bad, that she was sure of.   
Zoë watched as Artemis took a hesitant sip. The goddess’ expression was nearly comical. It was one of mild excitement and utter confusion. “What is it?”  
“Nothing…” Artemis mumbled, taking another sip as if she were double checking something from the first. After this, though, she relaxed and seemed to warm up to the idea of having to drink it.  
“What does it taste like for you?” Zoë wondered. If she wasn’t mistaken there was a very faint blush decorating the goddess’ cheeks.  
“Uhm,” Artemis frowned in thought for a moment before seemingly giving up on trying to form a proper explanation. “You. It tastes like you.”  
“Really?”  
“Like your lips,” Artemis said, “and other things.”  
“What was that last bit?”  
“Oh leave me be,” the goddess huffed, wincing in pain shortly after.   
“I’m only curious, love.” Zoë gave an honest look of apology. “Finish that off then get some rest. I’ll keep tabs on Daria.”  
“If something happens will you tell me?”  
“Of course,” Zoë nodded, giving the goddess’ hand a light squeeze. Lingering for a moment, she finally stood and left Artemis in the quietness of the tent. Venturing over to the healing tent, Zoë stepped quietly inside. There, Daria lay on her back with bandages wrapped tightly about her torso. Even now they were decorated with a halo of blood, but she appeared to be resting. That was good. Sighing in relief, Zoë left the girl to rest and ventured about their camp.   
The wolves were curled in on one another sound asleep. Some had licked their wounds, others were bandaged, but they all had round bellies. Someone had made sure to feed them well. In truth, they looked like pot bellied pups. Smiling to herself, Zoë checked the ties of the tents making sure they were fastened securely. When satisfied she did one more sweep of the area before putting out the fire. Weaving her way through the dark, she found herself back to the tent she and Artemis shared. The camp was quiet except for the sound of slumbering wolves and hunters.   
Stretching for a moment, the hesperide found Artemis sound asleep. With an amused laugh, she set to work on carefully bandaging the wounds. Even for a god they would take a handful of days to heal. Until then, their hunt would be stalled, but the group could use the rest. They’d been moving none stop it seemed since the moment she and Artemis rejoined them. While it’d been a good week of hunting, it’d also been a thoroughly exhausting one.  
Once finished with her patch job, Zoë nestled carefully beside Artemis. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the girl let alone irritate a wound. Though this separation of contact was mildly frustrating, Zoë resorted to running a hand through auburn hair. The repetition ultimately lulled her to sleep in a bout of irony. But she wouldn’t complain. For the time being everyone was alive even if they weren’t in tact. That was something she refused to take for granted.


	25. Vacation

Hey guys, so I’m gonna try and get a chapter up before I go on vacation but this week has been crazy so far. I stayed up at my condo for the first time by myself this week in prep for college and now I have a family (potentially my last) vacation.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Artemis slowly healed from her injuries, but even in pain she didn’t neglect her duties around the camp, let alone her godly ones. And much to the goddess’ relief her comrade had survived their ordeal with the wolves, and she hadn’t lost yet another precious life. Yet it reminded her that her gift of immortality wasn’t true immortality. No, she could only do so much to keep those she cared about alive.   
However, the slow healing process left time for Zoë and Artemis to talk. If one were to listen closely, they’d know that these secret conversations lasted for hours often revolving around a singular topic. Though it seemed foolish at times, talking the issue to death was better than ignoring it. But these discussions didn’t just occur at camp. They continued for weeks, even well into the next month, and the only reason the discussions stopped was for Thia’s sake. Though, Artemis didn’t think that much time had passed from her nieces’ proposal, apparently it had. Not to mention that Thia was very much like her parents. As far as wedding plans went, they were slim to none. She wanted the bare essentials and nothing more which made throwing the event together fairly easy.  
And much to the goddess’ surprise, Thia had enlisted her help along with Zoë’s. While getting the hesperide’s help seemed logical, as Zoë was much more equipped for planning events, Artemis saw little logic in Thia’s asking for her help. She’d barely survived her own wedding. As if to make matters worse, Artemis was reminded how horribly perceptive her niece was.  
“You were up late last night, weren’t you?” Thia asked, tucking her hands in her pockets as they followed the perimeter of New Rome’s border.  
“Yes,” Artemis nodded. “Did it keep you awake?”  
“Oh, no,” Thia laughed. “I woke up because I was hungry. So I grabbed a snack and noticed that you and Aunt Zoë were talking.”  
“How much did you hear?” Artemis asked curiously.  
“Not a whole lot, but if it’s any consolation, you helped raise me. So, that sort of makes you a mom by extension.” Thia’s grin was so wide her tongue stuck out ever so slightly from between her teeth.   
“I baby sat you,” Artemis corrected.  
“Did you change my diapers and see my naked butt?”

“Yes.”  
“Then you’re qualified,” Thia promised.  
“Oh dear,” Artemis sighed, shaking her head in amusement. “Well, at least promise me you won’t dwell on whatever portion of the conversation you heard. It’s a…fragile topic.”  
“I won’t. Besides, it’s your own private business, but what’ll you do if-“  
“If nothing comes of all these sleepless nights? I’ll go on loving and living,” the goddess shrugged. “How could I not? I could never hold something like that against her. But now I have to ask…have you and Leah thought of having a family?”  
“Kind of,” Thia admitted. “We figured we’d cross that bridge when we get there, and there’s plenty of orphan kids here that need good homes. I think it’d be great to raise a few of them and make sure they get proper care. Whether or not they’re biologically related to me means nothing. Not if I love them.”  
“Once again I’m reminded how beautiful your heart is,” Artemis smiled.   
“Awe, now I’m blushing,” Thia smiled bashfully.  
\---- ---- ----  
Zoë watched the two head back up the pathway to the Grace household laughing and looking like genuine goof balls.   
“Then you asked me if chickens were naked. I told you they weren’t if they had all their feathers, but you were convinced that they wore their feathers like jackets, so they were naked,” Artemis laughed.  
“Really? I was so dumb!” Thia snorted. “Although, now that I’m picturing naked chickens with feather jackets I don’t know if I should laugh or be terrified.”   
“Definitely the latter option,” Artemis shivered.   
“I mean, can you imagine one just…slowly peeling off this coat of feathers? Staring you down the whole time? Like, chickens are already terrifying but that’s horror movie level,” Thia frowned in thought.   
“I’m rather disturbed now,” Artemis admitted.  
“I might not actually fall asleep tonight,” Thia laughed.   
“Do you two always talk about things like this?” Zoë asked, studying their perplexed expressions.  
“No, you never really know what you’re going to get out of me,” This shrugged. “Sometimes I talk about things like action figure models that’ve been discontinued because people like Dakota are nerds.”   
“Right,” Zoë nodded as if she knew who this Dakota was. “Do you ever tell her your weird stories, Arty?”  
“Not usually no,” Artemis admitted, “but that’s because hers are far more entertaining.”  
“Yeah, I did weird stuff as a kid,” Thia blushed. A light seemed to ignite in Artemis’ eyes as she recalled something in particular and grabbed Zoë’s hand excitedly.   
“There was one particular time, I think it was around Christmas, that all of the socks in the house vanished. I remember Thalia telling me how she was certain it was the dogs stealing and hiding them. I believed it. Until, I stopped by one day and noticed that there were little pieces of cloth littered on Thia’s floor. As it would turn out, she was cutting holes in all the socks to make gloves and giving them out to kids who didn’t have any,” Artemis smiled, “but on this particular day she was wearing a pair on her feet. I asked what she was doing-“  
“And I said I wanted to know if I could fit my toes through the holes and wear them like gloves for my feet,” Thia sighed.  
“There was also the time at camp where you stole all of the cooking wear and captured animals in it to give them homes. You proceeded to name them and show everyone your ‘happy little zoo,’ Artemis reminded.  
“Okay, I know. I was weird. But can you blame me? Look at my parents!” Thia cried, stepping inside her home.  
“What was that punk?” Thalia asked, playfully glaring at her daughter.  
“Nothing at all,” Artemis mused. Thia simply grinned as the goddess spared her a wink.  
While the odd bit of teasing unfolded, Zoë watched with mild confusion and wonder. Her father had never teased or cared to remember anything about her. In fact, she’d never really seen any interactions like the ones Thia had with her parents or Artemis. Sure, the stories could be embarrassing but they weren’t rude of ill intentioned. Frankly, they seemed to be sort of nostalgic and almost loving.   
“Come on,” Thia drew the hesperide from her thoughts with an excited bounce in her step. “I trust you more than anyone else here to help pick colors for things. Mama usually just goes with black or dark blue like a boring person.”  
“You’re gonna be black and blue for calling me boring,” Thalia teasingly warned. Though Zoë wasn’t too sure what to do she let Thia drag her off.   
\--- --- ---  
“Has she always been so childlike?” Zoë asked, sitting cross legged on the guest bed she and Artemis temporarily shared.   
“Always,” Artemis nodded, folding her clothes with care. “She was allowed to grow up at her own pace. Most aren’t that lucky, but she doesn’t take it for granted I assure you.”  
“She is sweet,” Zoë agreed. “I know you were teasing her earlier, but do you have any particularly fond memories with her? I’ve never bothered to ask and the both of you are very close so I’m curious…”  
“It’s alright,” Artemis laughed, stopping Zoë in her tracks. “Give me a moment to think.”  
“Alright.”  
The two settled down next to one another and Zoë made sure to make herself comfortable while Artemis thought. “Well, when Thia was little she was always curious about you. I only told her so much, you know, she was little and everything. But there was one night I told her that you were in the stars. I explained where your constellation was, and her eyes were so bright it was almost like she was trying to drink in the entire universe. I didn’t expect much of a reaction from her, but she turned to me and asked ever so gently if I talked to you. I told her that sometimes I did. She wanted to try and say hello too. So, she laid down and thought for a while. Then, though it was very simple, said ‘I’m glad you’re up there because it means you can scare away all my bad dreams and Aunt Arty’s’. She said it was very brave of you to do that.”   
“Did she doubt if I could hear what she’d said?”   
“No, I don’t think she cared either way. All that mattered was the possibility that you could hear her,” Artemis sighed. “She’s always been one to have hope and I’ve always wanted to protect that about her.”  
Silence settled over the two for a moment, and Artemis noticed the way her wife’s face was scrunched up in thought. It was almost amusing, but the topic at hand must have been one she was seriously contemplating due to the downturned corners of her mouth.   
“Are you alright?” Artemis asked, taking Zoë’s hand in her own. The hesperide gave a deep sigh and nestled her face into a pale shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“What was it like when she was little? Very little I mean.”  
“She slept mostly and cried little. From what I remember Thia was a very curious baby. Thalia said she had to touch everything. She was very much a hands-on learner and explorer,” Artemis explained. “She also had the habit of touching her forehead to yours. Almost like she wanted to study your eyes and truthfully I could’ve stared at hers for hours.”  
And with the more questions Zoë asked the more Artemis seemed to melt into the past. She smiled, laughed, and her eyes lit up with excitement. It was strange seeing her like this, but there was something equally endearing about it. Yet, Zoë found herself feeling out of place. She couldn’t contribute to any of the tales and try as she might it was hard to see them as Artemis did. To her they were foggy depictions of someone else’s memories.   
“You’re upset,” the goddess noted.  
“Part of me wishes I could’ve been there,” Zoë admitted. “To see everything the way you do.”  
“Me too,” Artemis sighed, “but that is the past. You don’t have to dwell on it. There’s plenty we can reminisce about together.”  
“We’ve only done so much. It’ll grow old one day to talk of the same things over and over again.”  
“Then I don’t know how to fix your plight, love,” Artemis worried.   
“It’s not something you can fix,” the hesperide smiled faintly. “I’ll figure it out myself. Now, it’s late.”  
“Mmm,” Artemis hummed, “you’re right. Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight.”  
\--- --- ---  
The next morning and the one after that showed a peculiar change in the lieutenant. She was quieter than normal and lost so deep in thought it was nearly impossible to gain her attention. Of course, Artemis could tell that whatever had occupied her thoughts meant she needed space. She respected that, but the goddess would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.  
Still, Artemis didn’t go prying for answers. She simply watched from afar and offered small reminders that she was always there to listen. Eventually, by the second night of silence, Zoë held an aura of resolution. She’d come to terms with something. What that something was, Artemis didn’t know until they were tucked in bed once more. A comfortable silence settled over the room and Artemis refused to break it. At last, Zoë spoke.  
“I’ve been thinking a lot as of late and I’ve come to a decision on something. Now, I’m still a little uncertain, a bit afraid, and honestly nervous, but I remembered something you said. That it’d be foolish not to try for fear of the past repeating itself, and you’re right. Living by that fear would be foolish. And seeing you with Thia made me realize what we’d miss out on. What we have missed out on. So, I’m saying this not just to appease you, don’t worry that I am, but I’m okay with trying. I don’t know what’ll happen, but I have you and that’s the only comfort I seem to keep in my life.” Zoë let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and studied Artemis’ face.  
The lack of expression worried her but a smile slowly blossomed on the goddess’ lips. “You mean that?”  
“Yes, but I’ll need you. Like I said, I’m not enti-“  
Artemis interrupted her lover’s worries with a soft kiss. “I know. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”  
Though Zoë had been certain of this, the confirmation from Artemis finally let her relax. A relieved smile mirrored that of her goddess’ and the two went to bed at a reasonable time for once. There was little else to worry over. For now, the decision had been made-as daunting as it was- but both had something to hope for. Whether it worked out or not wasn’t something either of them was willing to think about at the moment. That was a worry for another day. As for that night, there was no worry and only imagination. The possibilities were endless as far as Artemis was concerned, and the idea of having a tiny Zoë run around was more than enough to send her imagination wild.


	27. Update

Hey guys, so I totally plan on continuing this story but I have cross country practice officially starting pre-season training and I’m getting ready to go to college. So I’ve got a lot going on at the moment, so please be patient. Updated will just be slow.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Zoë wasn’t sure what to expect. Sure, she figured it’d be a little weird, but that did little to ease her nerves. Not to mention that Thalia was little help. The other girl had no idea how Thia was ‘made’ and preferred to keep it that way. As for Thia, she had absolutely no recollection of her ‘birth’ as was expected. So, standing awkwardly in a large studio with mounds of clay lying about didn’t seem like the right place to be, but Artemis insisted they were indeed in the right place.   
“Only Prometheus would have a place like this. And I know it’s his because my brother never finishes any sculptures he starts,” Artemis explained.  
“Wasn’t he chained to a rock for eternal punishment?” The hesperide wondered.   
“Yes, but my father finally figured out that letting the man work would leave little room for malicious thoughts and plans for revenge,” The goddess grinned. “Also, it’s rather entertaining. He tried teaching me once.”  
“How did that go?”  
“Well, I really didn’t care about what I was making so I slapped some clay around and hoped for the best. It looked sort of like an ugly dog in the end,” Artemis shrugged. “It was relaxing though.”  
“Right,” Zoë nodded, trying to picture Artemis up to her elbows in clay with a look of concentration on her face as she struggled to shape it. “Hopefully you don’t have to make anything, today.”  
The goddess stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. She would have shoved her wife if she weren’t worried about breaking something. With a content sigh, the goddess decided it was best if they at least tried to find the titan instead of waiting and hoping he’d stumble upon them.   
Weaving through the workplace, it became clear that the studio was far larger than it should have been. Sculptures were half finished, or in need of repair, while others stood on gorgeous pedestals. A particular piece caught Zoë’s eye. The clay was hardened and colored, but the visage of its character seemed life like. Almost like a person was trying hard to stand still and unnoticed. The body was carefully curved, with slight marks along the thighs, the arms were raised to hold a pitcher of water above the head, but the flesh wasn’t rigid. No, it seemed to hang from the arm with a beautiful suppleness to it. Over the years, Zoë had seen a progression in art depicting women in many ways but society had settled on a clear cut figure. One of little definition or uniqueness. This, however, was far from the usual photos or propaganda. It was exquisite.   
“I’ve never seen someone understand the human figure so well,” Zoë muttered.  
“That’s because I created it,” a weathered voice carried past the two visitors like a wind, “the human figure.”  
Artemis, being less startled, turned to face Prometheus. His beard was stained with fried pieces of clay, his hands were slick with muddy looking water, his apron was smeared with a multitude of colors, but his eyes looked like broken glass. It was startling how someone with such a damaged gaze could look so beautiful at the same time. Almost like he reflected his work. “It’s beautiful.”  
“Mm,” the titan nodded, absent mindedly wiping his hands against his apron. “Everything is beautiful if you make it, but others don’t see the beauty as you do. It’s the bias of a father I suppose, or the worker. You love it because you nurtured it. People don’t have to love what they haven’t nurtured. Why do you think the mortals despise each other? Because their neighbor isn’t something they’ve had to guide with a kind hand.”  
“Wise as always,” Artemis nodded.   
“Yes, but you didn’t come here for my melancholy wisdom,” Prometheus ran a hand through his scraggly beard. “However, I was expecting your arrival. I know when I am needed.”  
“You do…” Zoë arched a brow, though her words were a muddled mess of inquisition and observation.  
“I created the human heart, I know what it wants,” Prometheus mused. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you alone, and I can offer no guarantee that I can fulfill what you seek.”  
“Will you try?” Artemis asked.  
“I will try,” the titan promised, “but even my power is limited.”  
“You did it once before,” Zoë wondered aloud, “how would a second be different?”  
“Thia’s creation wasn’t an exact science. It could’ve gone horribly wrong, but it didn’t. Partially because of the DNA I had to work with. Gods have no DNA. Our forms always change. It’s a difficult process to condense that matter, that identity, into something workable. But, like I said, I will try.” Prometheus assured. “Now, I will need Hecate if you can find her. I never know what that woman is doing.”  
“Hestia will know,” Artemis smiled slightly to herself, “she always does.”  
\-- -- --  
“You need me to bibbity bobbity boo something?” Hecate yawned, stretching her arms over her head as she entered Prometheus’ shop. “What is it? A rabbit? A new monster? A test subject?”  
“Test subject?” Artemis arched a brow.  
“Never mind that,” Hecate laughed, waving off the goddess’ comment.  
“No, this is a much more difficult request,” Prometheus sighed, settling his hands on his hips. “If you wouldn’t mind Artemis, I need to talk to Hecate alone.”  
“Of course, we’ll just look around in the meantime,” Artemis promised, taking Zoë by the hand and walking off.  
When they were a good distance away, Zoë broke the silence. “This isn’t going to work is it?”  
“I don’t know,” Artemis admitted, “but have faith. If anyone can do it…it’s Prometheus. He’s gifted.”  
“Everyone on this mountain is ‘gifted’.” Zoë snorted.  
“Then there’s more resources available than anywhere else,” Artemis reminded. “Now, if anything, let’s at least get a nice date out of this before we have to go back to the real world and endure another wedding.”  
“What? You don’t want to go to Thia’s-“  
“No! I do, but I dislike parties. You know that, and there’s people there that I don’t quite like,” Artemis frowned. “Which is anyone I don’t already know the name of.”  
“Small pool of people then,” Zoë teased, earning a half hearted glare.   
With Artemis finding ways to subtly annoy Zoë in return for the teasing remark, the two investigated the other hidden treasures of Prometheus’ lair. They discovered ancient designs stowed away in sealed cases. Artemis guessed that if anyone even breathed upon the clay surfaces the structures would dissipate into dust. Still, they were enchanting in a nostalgic way. There were intricate vases of varying designs, some traditional, some extremely wild, and some in between. There were scrapped designs for creatures that could’ve roamed the earth and forgotten plant life.   
“I didn’t know most of this was here,” Artemis admitted. “It’s a shame, but I understand why it’s unknown. The designs would either be stolen, ruined, or worse.”  
“Does your father know he’s kept these?” Zoë asked.  
“I doubt it, but it’s not something he’d care about anyways,” Artemis sighed.   
Then, after another moment of wandering around, Prometheus emerged like a ghost from behind large crates of clay. “Alright, listen close. I will only say this once.”  
“Go on,” Artemis nodded.  
“Hecate is willing to help, but she cannot make ant guarantees like myself. However, we have a vague plan of what to do. It requires no effort on either of your parts but I’m going to inform you on as much as possible.” The titan glanced between both goddess and huntress to make sure he had their attention. “I can create life as you know, but it’s a delicate process. Especially to do as you desire. I would need sources of parent material. The ground on which you were born. The earth that held your essence first. Once I acquire those materials, I can work on melding the elements. When I finish with that step, Hecate will intervene. She will do as she must to complete the job. Now, parent materials are small. We can only attempt this twice if there’s even enough for that.”  
“How would we know if it worked?” Artemis frowned.  
“Well, I suppose time would tell,” Prometheus shrugged. “Am I clear?”  
“Yes, crystal,” Artemis nodded.  
“Great, the sooner this is done, the better.”   
Watching the titan go, Artemis felt herself relax. “This shouldn’t be too hard. I recall where I was born because Apollo was stubborn at actually being born.”  
“Uh,” Zoë swallowed tightly, “I don’t know where I was born. My mother was a sea nymph. If anything it was somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the ocean.”  
“Oh,” Artemis’ expression fell. “You don’t remember anything?”  
“No,” Zoë shook her head, “nothing of importance anyways. Just the smell of water and a breeze. That could be anywhere.”  
“I see,” Artemis chewed anxiously at her bottom lip. “Well…”  
She tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. What could she say? It seemed like they were always running into dead ends. To say she wasn’t frustrated was an understatement.   
“I’m sorry,” Zoë glanced briefly at the ground, “I don’t mean to make things difficult.”   
“It’s alright. I’ll think of something. I promise. Besides, Athena always says there’s more than one solution to any problem; the conventional, and the unconventional,” Artemis smiled faintly. “Maybe this is an unconventional one.”  
“Maybe.”  
\-- -- --  
Artemis spent the entirety of her day stuck in thought. She was practically in another world. Even Athena couldn’t shake her out of the stupor, but the goddess was determined. She wasn’t going to let Zoë down again. She’d die if it meant figuring out some alternative. Yet, the more she thought, the more her mind seemed to go numb. It reached a certain point where she might as well have been studying a white wall.  
Of course, Artemis tried all the usual tricks to jumpstart her brain. First, a walk outside, then a good run, a hot shower, a small meal, mindless brainstorming, a cold shower, and even shooting at flimsy targets. But nothing happened. In fact, she’d worn herself out so much that Zoë wasn’t surprised when the goddess keeled over in bed falling into a sudden sleep. It was almost comical if it wasn’t so pitiful.  
But for what it was worth, Zoë adored Artemis’ effort, stubbornness, and determination. It made thing smore bearable knowing someone cared so much for her. And despite having known Artemis for nearly the goddess’ entire life, Zoë couldn’t help but be surprised at times by Artemis willpower. It never seemed to run thin, and if it did, she never showed it.  
“I got it!” Artemis cried, sitting upright with her eyes wide and hair wild.  
“Is it giving me a heart attack?” Zoë spluttered, feeling her pulse sky-rocket.  
“You died, right?”  
“Yes, I remember that,” Zoë snorted.  
“Well you were reborn. Twice! And on the third time it was in the underworld. Exactly as you are now. That’s where we have to go!” Artemis grinned, albeit looking a little crazy. “I am a genius!”  
“You’re also sleep deprived,” Zoë muttered, but Artemis was too excited to process what had been said.   
“Come on! Let’s go!”   
“Ah ah ah, no.” Zoë frowned. “I am not taking you like this to the underworld. The last thing I need is for you to fall into one of those rivers.”   
“I can’t sleep when I’m excited like this. It’s impossible.”  
With a look of utter exasperation, Zoë smacked her wife with a pillow. “Go to sleep.”  
Apparently, that was all Artemis needed, and as the goddess closed her eyes again, Zoë couldn’t help but smile because it’d been centuries since Artemis had acted so childishly. In fact, there were countless times early on in their relationship that Zoë had to chastise Artemis for not sleeping. The girl simply didn’t shut up.  
\-- -- --  
After some decent rest, Artemis was back to her usual state of mind. She truly had been tired, but that was a fact of the past. There were more important things to attend to. So, with a set jaw and some good old determination, she ventured to the underworld with Zoë in tow.  
“Do you remember your first moment here?” Artemis asked, not entirely familiar with the lay of the land.  
“Vaguely,” Zoë nodded, eyes skimming the surrounding area. “It was dark, the sky was clear, and the stars were bright. I believe I was on a beach. The sand was fine, and the water was a faint roar.”  
“Alright, then we start at the beach. Is there more than one?” Artemis questioned. The hesperide shook her head. As far as she knew there was only the one. With a location in mind, Artemis managed to weave through the crowded streets with ease until they reached the perimeter of the town. She hadn’t realized so many people made it to the Isles of the Blessed. Then again, the last time she’d been there, she’d only been looking for one person. The rest hadn’t mattered.  
With silence a more favorable companion than the bustling town square, Artemis managed to pick out the sigh of the ocean. The beach wasn’t far away it seemed. In retrospect that was probably a good thing. Waking up in the sand without a town in sight would have been frightening. At least if the ocean could be heard from her, then the town could be too. Or, it could at least be seen. The lights were quite bright.  
Eventually, the hardened path gave way to soft white sand that reflected the starlight. The scenery was stunning, with the water looking like pooling ink, the white foam glinting every now and then, and the occasional sea shell turning over in the sand. Part of Artemis understood why people would wake up on the beach. It was serene, peaceful, and the exact opposite of their previous lives.  
“I think it was over there,” Zoë pointed down the shoreline to a small cove. Her head was cocked to the side and her eyes seemed to recollect something. “It makes sense I suppose. I recall the same sounds when I try to remember my earliest days as a child. The call of the sound and the way water hit rock. It’s familiar.”  
“You think my uncle placed you in the environment you were born?” Artemis arched a brow. She’d never thought so deeply on the topic before, but it made sense.  
“Yes,” Zoë nodded. “I guess he’s always been clever that way.”  
Smiling to herself, Artemis made a mental note to pay the compliment forward to her uncle. Walking slowly towards the designated area, both from the sand, and because there was no reason to race through the moment, the waves licked lightly at their heels. Under normal circumstances Artemis would have been less than thrilled about getting sand stuck to her skin (as it had a habit of flicking up off the shoe and onto her legs) but this was more than fine.  
“How much do we take? And from where?” Artemis murmured, studying the cove with care. She tried to imagine Zoë sprawled out in the sand, with her dark skin a perfect contrast, and the faintest hint of dried salt on her skin. Unfortunately, it was all to easy to imagine, and Artemis couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her lips.  
“Perhaps a little of everything?” The hesperide proposed.   
“I worry that’ll make things diluted,” Artemis frowned. “What else do you remember?”  
“The texture.” As the idea occurred to her, Zoë knelt down and hesitantly ran a hand over the ground. Her fingertips skimmed the surface of coarse pebbles, mud, broken shells, and sand. It only stopped when her palm settled on a large patch fine white pebbles. “Here. This is it. I’m sure of it.”  
“Perfect,” Artemis grinned, waving a hand and summoning a container. Together they collected as much of the soil as possible. “You always surprise me.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah,” the goddess smiled, kissing her huntress lightly.   
\-- -- --  
“You were born here?” Zoë breathed, glancing about in wonder.   
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, breathing in the island air. “This is where I first learned that brothers could cry a lot.”  
“Oh like you didn’t cry as a baby,” Zoë snorted.  
“No, I yelled. I was a screamer,” Artemis boasted. “I bet the nearby locals were rather amused.”  
“Yes, but where did this sense of humor come from?”  
“I use it on occasion when I’m in particularly good spirits. Today is one of those days far and few between,” Artemis shrugged, albeit a bit bashfully. “Anyways, we have a job to do.”  
“What if your brother gets mixed in? I mean, you were born in the same place,” Zoë reminded.  
“Not quite,” Artemis sighed, “he was born a little over there and I was born a little over here.’  
Though there didn’t seem to be much of a difference in Zoë’s eyes, it was clear the difference was rather bit to Artemis. She watched the goddess collect the sol as she had before and plucked a neat little flower too.   
“What’s the flower for?”   
“A little bit of home to…take home I suppose. I rarely come here. The last time I did it was during the second giant war. My brother and I were temporarily banished here,” Artemis explained, inspecting the flower’s bright petals. “I prefer not to think of those times. They were…stressful.”  
“It is a peaceful place though,” Zoë noted.  
“Which is why my mother fled here when Hera found out my father was less than faithful. It’s sacred land now, but it was untouched before she arrived. Virgin soil,” Artemis smiled, glancing about her birthplace. It hadn’t changed much from what she could tell. The flowers were the same, the smells, and the feeling of the breeze. Almost like time didn’t touch it. “Well, I think we have what’s needed. We should be going.”  
“I hope this works,” the hesperide sighed. She wasn’t keen on expending so much effort for no reward. She’d rather have spent the day reading instead, or talking to Mr. Potts, and maybe climbing a few forbidden temples. The views were always great on the forbidden ones.   
Closing her eyes, she felt Artemis’ hand on hers and the familiar sensation of heat washed over them. It always stung, but it wasn’t unbearable. Contrarily, Artemis was completely unbothered. Opening her eyes, Zoë was taken aback by Prometheus’ shop once more. It seemed he’d created new masterpieces in the short amount of time they’d been gone.   
“Do you have it?” Prometheus frowned in question, standing up from where he’d been bent over a chest.  
“Yes,” Artemis nodded, showing the titan the two jars of dirt. Special dirt, she had to remind herself.  
“Perfect,” Prometheus smiled wearily, “that looks to be enough. I’ll set to work immediately.”  
“Thank you,” Artemis nodded, handing over the supplies.   
“I will inform you when Hecate and I are finished. Then, all there is left to do is wait and maybe hope. Thankfully there might be enough here for a second try.” Prometheus turned the jars over in his large hands. They were surprisingly gentle, even delicate.  
“I mean it,” Artemis sounded firm, “thank you. You don’t have to be doing this.”  
“Well, I have to repay you somehow,” Prometheus’ eyes shimmered with kindness.  
“What do you mean?” Zoë frowned.  
“Your mistress would sneak out at night when she was young to visit with me. She was a curious one, never able to rest at night, and my stories had a way of captivating her attention. It helped distract me of the pain in my eternal torture,” Prometheus explained. “She liked hearing of her mother. We were cousins after all.”  
“You made her seem like a trouble maker,” Artemis counted.  
“She was. How else would Zeus have noticed her? He likes trouble,” Prometheus winked. “Anyways, I digress. I have work to do.”  
Before either girl could respond, the titan lumbered off to take care of business. Zoë studied Artemis for a moment in mild surprise. “Did you know everyone? How many rules did you break?”  
“A lot of rules, but I learned my place. Unlike my brother, I just met with those no one bothered to pay attention to anyways. No one was the wiser, and I got good at being quiet,” Artemis shrugged. “Why do you think I’m so good at hunting? Some skills come naturally to gods but even they can be developed over time.”  
“Seems I find out more about you every day,” Zoë mused.  
“Likewise,” Artemis laughed. “Because a little bird told me you once snuck off to a Shakespeare play just to boo him during a performance of Romeo and Juliet.”  
“The play is ghastly!” Zoë protested, “and the man is impossibly pretentious.”  
“Yet you were the one saying ‘thee’ and ‘thou’.”  
“I never said the language wasn’t beautiful,”  
“Alright,” Artemis laughed, “I’ll leave you be. Besides, I never said I hated it when you talked like that.”  
“Some people did,” Zoë mumbled.  
“Thalia doesn’t count,” the goddess snorted, “she hates the way a lot of people talk.”  
“That…that is a fair assessment.”


End file.
